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