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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
Virgil, page 3 of 3
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Epic

"epic, adj. and n." OED Online. Oxford University Press, September 2014. Web. 9 September 2014.

adj.
1. Pertaining to that species of poetical composition (see epos n.), represented typically by the Iliad and Odyssey, which celebrates in the form of a continuous narrative the achievements of one or more heroic personages of history or tradition.
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Previous page on path Virgil, page 3 of 3 Path end, return home
Edmund Spenser

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