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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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His clownish gifts

His clownish gyfts) imitateth Virgils verse,

Rusticus es Corydon, nec munera curat Alexis.
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser    EK's gloss

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