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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
The Miltonic Timeline, page 9 of 12
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John Milton

John Milton
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Previous page on path The Miltonic Timeline, page 9 of 12 Next page on path
Edmund Spenser

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