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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

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vnnethes

vnnethes) scarcely.
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser    EK's gloss

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