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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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It is not Hobbinol, wherefore I plaine,

It's not him, why I complain
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Teaching notes, 10 Sept. 2014  View all tags
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser

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