Stoure

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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Stoure

Stoure) a fitt.

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The Shepheardes Calender: January Edmund Spenser EK's gloss

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