Sign in or register
for additional privileges

Scalar Milton

Evan Thomas, Milton Group8, Milton Group7, Milton Group6, Milton Group5, Milton Group4, Milton Group3, Milton Group2, Milton Group1, Milton Group9, Authors

You appear to be using an older verion of Internet Explorer. For the best experience please upgrade your IE version or switch to a another web browser.

overhaile

Overhaile) drawe over.
Comment on this page
  • Local Discussion
    •
  • Popout
    •
 

Discussion of "overhaile"

Add your voice to this discussion.

Checking your signed in status ...

The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser    EK's gloss

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