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Scalar Milton

Evan Thomas, Milton Group8, Milton Group7, Milton Group6, Milton Group5, Milton Group4, Milton Group3, Milton Group2, Milton Group1, Milton Group9, Authors

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auaile

Auail) bring downe.
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser    EK's gloss

Related:  Yet all for naught: [such] sight hath bred my bane.,  His kiddes, his cracknelles, and his early fruit.,  Edmund Spenser,  Albee my loue he seeke with dayly suit:,  Thy sommer prowde with Daffadillies dight.,  A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower,,  The Shepheardes Calender: January,  All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere,  Rosalind,  So broke his oaten pype, and downe dyd lye.,  Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see:,  Colin clout,  Ah God, that loue should breede both ioy and payne.,  Sere,  vnnethes,  And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend,,  And thou vnlucky Muse, that wontst to ease,  Ah foolish Hobbinol, thy gyfts bene vayne:,  Both pype and Muse, shall sore the while abye.,  Thou barrein ground, whome winters wrath hath wasted,,  And am forlorne, (alas why am I lorne?),  EK's gloss,  Pastoral,  And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure,,  overhaile,  I loue,  Art made a myrrhour, to behold my plight:,  Colins Embleme.,  Colin them gives to Rosalind againe.,  sithes,  The blossome, which my braunch of youth did beare,,  It is not Hobbinol, wherefore I plaine,,  Thy mantle mard, wherein thou mas-kedst late.,  Epic,  My musing mynd, yet canst not, when thou should:,  And now is come thy wynters stormy state,,  His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine,,  My timely buds with wayling all are wasted:,  Stoure,  With breathed sighes is blowne away, & blasted,,  Teaching notes, 10 Sept. 2014,  And laughes the songes, that Colin Clout doth make.,  As on your boughes the ysicles depend.,  I loue thilke lasse, (alas why doe I loue?),  Virgil,  neighbour towne,  Shee deignes not my good will, but doth reproue,,  couth,  Wherefore my pype, albee rude Pan thou please,,  Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted,  His clownish gifts,  Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight, as shee.,  And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne.,  Hobbinol,  Shepheards deuise she hateth as the snake,,  Yet for thou pleasest not, where most I would:,  John Milton