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