Matres Dolorosae
Ye Spartan mothers, gentle ones,Of lion-hearted, loving sons,Fal'n, the flower of English youth,To a barbarous foe in a land uncouth:--
O what a delicate sacrifice!Unequal the stake and costly the priceAs when the queen of Love deplor'dHer darling by the wild-beast gor'd.
They rode to war as if to the hunt,But ye at home, ye bore the brunt,Bore the siege of torturing fears,Fed your hope on the bread of tears.
Proud and spotless warriors theyWith love or sword to lead the way;For ye had cradled heart and hand,The commander hearken'd to your command.
Ah, weeping mothers, now all is o'er,Ye know your honour and mourn no more:Nor ask ye a name in England's story,Who gave your dearest for her glory.
Words in this poem
- rode n.
- Redness; complexion. [See Rud.]
- brunt n.
- The heat, or utmost violence, of an onset; the strength or greatest fury of any contention; as, the brunt of a battle. [OE. brunt, bront, fr. Icel. bruna to rush; cf. Icel. brenna to burn. Cf. Burn, v. t.]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Matres Dolorosae is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Excluding the Eight Dramas, Project Gutenberg ebook #37804; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Bridges, Matres Dolorosae, in The Growth of Love, and Other Poems (1873–1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #37804, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bridges-shorter-poems/matres-dolorosae.html, id L01826.
Form and metre
Matres Dolorosae is 20 lines in 5 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes AABB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 81%). 86% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.7 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 15% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABB onesA · sonsA · youthB · uncouthB
- 2 AABB sacrificeA · priceA · deplor'dB · gor'dB
- 3 AABB huntA · bruntA · fearsB · tearsB
- 4 AABB theyA · wayA · handB · commandB
- 5 AABB o'erA · moreA · storyB · gloryB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Ye Spartan mothers, gentle ones, | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| Of lion-hearted, loving sons, | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| Fal'n, the flower of English youth, | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| To a barbarous foe in a land uncouth:-- | 10 | ··/˘····// |
| O what a delicate sacrifice! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Unequal the stake and costly the price | 10 | ˘/˘···/˘·· |
| As when the queen of Love deplor'd | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Her darling by the wild-beast gor'd. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| They rode to war as if to the hunt, | 9 | ········· |
| But ye at home, ye bore the brunt, | 8 | ········ |
| Bore the siege of torturing fears, | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Fed your hope on the bread of tears. | 8 | ········ |
| Proud and spotless warriors they | 8 | ··/˘/˘˘· |
| With love or sword to lead the way; | 8 | ········ |
| For ye had cradled heart and hand, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The commander hearken'd to your command. | 10 | ·˘/˘····˘/ |
| Ah, weeping mothers, now all is o'er, | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Ye know your honour and mourn no more: | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Nor ask ye a name in England's story, | 10 | ······/˘/˘ |
| Who gave your dearest for her glory. | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.