vnnethes

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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The Shepheardes Calender: January Edmund Spenser EK's gloss

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