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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
Virgil, page 1 of 3
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Pastoral

"pastoral, n. and adj." OED Online. Oxford University Press, September 2014. Web. 9 September 2014.

n.
II. A person or thing associated with the tending of livestock.
3. a. A literary work portraying rural life or the life of shepherds, esp. in an idealized or romantic form.
5. Pastoral poetry as a form or style of literary composition.

adj.
 2. a. Of poetry, music, pictures, etc.: portraying rural life or characters, esp. in an idealized or romantic manner; bucolic.
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Edmund Spenser

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