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