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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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Wherefore my pype, albee rude Pan thou please,

Wherefore my crude pype, even though unmannered God thou please,
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Teaching notes, 10 Sept. 2014  View all tags
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser

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