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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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EK's gloss

EK is commonly characterized as an editor, probably intimate with Spenser and possibly Spenser himself. EK added notes to each Aeclogue in keeping with the latest fashions in book design.
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser

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