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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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neighbour towne

Neighbour towne) the next towne: expressing the Latine Vicina.
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser    EK's gloss

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