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