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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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I loue thilke lasse, (alas why doe I loue?)

I love this (exact) girl (Rosalind), why do I love?
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Teaching notes, 10 Sept. 2014  View all tags
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser

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