Analysis of English Eclogues IV - The Sailor's Mother
Robert Southey 1774 (Bristol) – 1843 (London)
WOMAN.
Sir for the love of God some small relief
To a poor woman!
TRAVELLER.
Whither are you bound?
'Tis a late hour to travel o'er these downs,
No house for miles around us, and the way
Dreary and wild. The evening wind already
Makes one's teeth chatter, and the very Sun,
Setting so pale behind those thin white clouds,
Looks cold. 'Twill be a bitter night!
WOMAN.
Aye Sir
'Tis cutting keen! I smart at every breath,
Heaven knows how I shall reach my journey's end,
For the way is long before me, and my feet,
God help me! sore with travelling. I would gladly,
If it pleased God, lie down at once and die.
TRAVELLER.
Nay nay cheer up! a little food and rest
Will comfort you; and then your journey's end
Will make amends for all. You shake your head,
And weep. Is it some evil business then
That leads you from your home?
WOMAN.
Sir I am going
To see my son at Plymouth, sadly hurt
In the late action, and in the hospital
Dying, I fear me, now.
TRAVELLER.
Perhaps your fears
Make evil worse. Even if a limb be lost
There may be still enough for comfort left
An arm or leg shot off, there's yet the heart
To keep life warm, and he may live to talk
With pleasure of the glorious fight that maim'd him,
Proud of his loss. Old England's gratitude
Makes the maim'd sailor happy.
WOMAN.
'Tis not that--
An arm or leg--I could have borne with that.
'Twas not a ball, it was some cursed thing
That bursts and burns that hurt him. Something Sir
They do not use on board our English ships
It is so wicked!
TRAVELLER.
Rascals! a mean art
Of cruel cowardice, yet all in vain!
WOMAN.
Yes Sir! and they should show no mercy to them
For making use of such unchristian arms.
I had a letter from the hospital,
He got some friend to write it, and he tells me
That my poor boy has lost his precious eyes,
Burnt out. Alas! that I should ever live
To see this wretched day!--they tell me Sir
There is no cure for wounds like his. Indeed
'Tis a hard journey that I go upon
To such a dismal end!
TRAVELLER.
He yet may live.
But if the worst should chance, why you must bear
The will of heaven with patience. Were it not
Some comfort to reflect your son has fallen
Fighting his country's cause? and for yourself
You will not in unpitied poverty
Be left to mourn his loss. Your grateful country
Amid the triumph of her victory
Remember those who paid its price of blood,
And with a noble charity relieves
The widow and the orphan.
WOMAN.
God reward them!
God bless them, it will help me in my age
But Sir! it will not pay me for my child!
TRAVELLER.
Was he your only child?
WOMAN.
My only one,
The stay and comfort of my widowhood,
A dear good boy!--when first he went to sea
I felt what it would come to,--something told me
I should be childless soon. But tell me Sir
If it be true that for a hurt like his
There is no cure? please God to spare his life
Tho' he be blind, yet I should be so thankful!
I can remember there was a blind man
Lived in our village, one from his youth up
Quite dark, and yet he was a merry man,
And he had none to tend on him so well
As I would tend my boy!
TRAVELLER.
Of this be sure
His hurts are look'd to well, and the best help
The place affords, as rightly is his due,
Ever at hand. How happened it he left you?
Was a seafaring life his early choice?
WOMAN.
No Sir! poor fellow--he was wise enough
To be content at home, and 'twas a home
As comfortable Sir I even tho' I say it,
As any in the country. He was left
A little boy when his poor father died,
Just old enough to totter by himself
And call his mother's name. We two were all,
And as we were not left quite destitute
We bore up well. In the summer time I worked
Sometimes a-field. Then I was famed for knitting,
And in long winter nights my spinning wheel
Seldom stood still. We had kind neighbours too
And never felt distress. So he grew up
A comely lad and wonderous well disposed;
I taught him well; there was not in the parish
A child who said his prayers more regular,
Or answered readier thro' his catechism.
If I had foreseen this! but 'tis a blessing
We do'nt know what we're born to!
TRAVELLER.
But how came it
He chose to be a Sailor?
WOMAN.
You shall hear Sir;
As he grew up he used to watch the birds
In the cor
Scheme | Axa Bcxxdaxx Abxexdx Bxexxf Agxhx Bxxijxxxd Akkgbxl Bjx Amxhdxnbxxe Bnxxaodddlxa Amxp Bp Aacddbxxhqrqxx Bxxssx Axftixoxxxgxsrxxbxgs Btb Abxx |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10 1101111101 10110 100 10111 101101101011 1111011001 10010101010 1111000101 1011011111 11110101 10 11 11011111001 1011111111 10111011011 111111001110 1111111101 100 1111010101 110101111 1101111111 0111110101 111111 10 11110 1111110101 0011000010 101111 100 0111 11011010111 1111011101 1111111101 1111011111 110101001111 111111010 1011010 10 111 1111111111 110111111 1101111101 11111110101 11110 100 10011 1101001101 10 11011111011 11011111 110101010 11111110111 1111111101 1101111101 1111011111 1111111101 1011011101 110101 100 1111 1101111111 01110110011 11010111110 1011010101 11101100 11111111010 0101010100 0101111111 0101010001 0100010 10 1011 1111111011 1111111111 100 111101 10 1101 01010111 0111111111 11111111011 1111011111 1111110111 1111111111 11111111110 1101011011 10101011111 1101110101 0111111111 111111 100 1111 1111110011 0101110111 10111101111 10111101 10 1111011101 1110110101 1100011101111 1100010111 0101111101 1101110101 0111011101 011011110 11110010111 01011111110 0011011101 101111111 0101011111 010101101 11111110010 0111111100 11010011100 1111111010 1111111 100 1111 1111010 10 1111 1111111101 001 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 4,070 |
Words | 829 |
Sentences | 75 |
Stanzas | 17 |
Stanza Lengths | 3, 8, 7, 6, 5, 9, 7, 3, 11, 12, 4, 2, 14, 6, 20, 3, 4 |
Lines Amount | 124 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 189 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 49 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:12 min read
- 76 Views
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"English Eclogues IV - The Sailor's Mother" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/31841/english-eclogues-iv---the-sailor%27s-mother>.
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