Sign in or register
for additional privileges

Scalar Milton

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

You appear to be using an older verion of Internet Explorer. For the best experience please upgrade your IE version or switch to a another web browser.

auaile

Auail) bring downe.
Comment on this page
  • Local Discussion
    •
  • Popout
    •
 

Discussion of "auaile"

Add your voice to this discussion.

Checking your signed in status ...

The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser    EK's gloss

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