OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 17

ODE XVII.—ON A SILVER BOWL.
Mulciber, thou skilful wright, Carve for me this silver bright; But I do not wish to see Polish'd arms or panoply. What are arms or wars to me?
Carve me out a mighty bowl, That my ever-thirsty soul In the generous juice may steep. Make it very—very deep. On the margin do not trace Uncouth shape or horrid face" Grave not there the northern wain Stern Orion, god of rain, Boötes, or the Pleiades; What concern have I with these? Trail thereon the tender vine, There let purple clusters shine; Picture too the god of wine. There let fair-hair'd Cupid be, And Bathyllus, fair as he: Make them beautiful and bold, Burnish'd high like polish'd gold: Let them in one labour join, Treading out the gushing wine.
* ↑ The author here alludes to the emblazoning of the shield of Achilles as described in the eighteenth book of the Iliad:— "There shone the image of the master mind; There earth—there heaven—there ocean he design'd; Th' unwearied sun, the moon completely round; The starry lights that heaven's high convex crown'd; The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team; And great Orion's more refulgent beam, To which around the axle of the sky The Bear revolving points his golden eye, Sill shines exalted on th' ethereal plain, Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main." Pope's Homer's Iliad.
* ↑ The Greek term signifies "hateful," and is used by the poet, because the constellation Orion was considered the forerunner of tempests, and therefore dreaded by mariners.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 18

ODE XVIII.—ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Dear artist, take this silver store, And try thy skilful hand once more; Produce a large and handsome bowl To charm my eyes, and cheer my soul. Around its polish'd surface bring The flowery pride of purple spring; There let the soft and vernal hours Shed rosy sweets in plenteous showers. Engrave no foreign mystic rite, No marv'lous tale that shocks the sight; But draw the gen'rous god of wine, Blithe Bacchus, son of Jove divine. Let Venus, love's sweet smiling queen, With youthful Hymen deck the scene: His dread artillery laid aside, Let Cupid mid the Graces glide, As in the sprightly dance they join Beneath the high-imbowering vine, Whose glowing clusters peep between The foliage bright of glossy green. With these a youthful group display, As fair as Phœbus, god of day, Though Phœbus join not in their play.
* ↑ The subject of this ode is the same as that of the preceding.
* ↑ "It is not without reason that Anacreon, after having mentioned Venus, introduces Love among the Graces, being sensible that though beauty alone might please, yet, without the aid of other charms, it could not long captivate the heart." Fawkes.
* ↑ This apparently alludes to the fable of Hyacinthus, a youth slain by Apollo while playing with him at quoits.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 2

ODE II.—ON WOMEN.
Pointed horns, the dread of foes, Nature on the bull bestows; Horny hoofs the horse defend, Swift-wing'd feet the hare befriend; Lions' gaping jaws disclose Dreadful teeth in grinning rows; Wings to birds her care supplied, Finny fishes swim the tide; Nobler gifts to man assign'd, Courage firm and strength of mind. From her then exhausted store Naught for woman has she more: How does Nature prove her care? Beauty's charms is woman's share,
Stronger far than warrior's dress Is her helpless loveliness. Safety smiles in beauty's eyes, She the hostile flame defies: Fiercest swords submissive fall— Lovely woman conquers all!
* ↑ The sentiment of this little ode is natural and beautiful, and it has been imitated by many succeeding writers. The first of modern poets, Lord Byron, has in the following beautiful passage a similar idea to that contained in the latter part of it:— "Oh, too convincing, dangerously dear! In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield To save—subdue—at once her spear and shield." Corsair, Canto ii., 15.
* ↑ The single word in the original thus translated, usually signifies wisdom or prudence; but surely so polite a poet as Anacreon would not have denied these important qualities to the ladies. It may likewise be rendered, as in the text, "Courage, or strength of mind;" but in neither sense may we arrogate to ourselves the title of "the exclusives," so long as the deeds and daring of the softer sex live in the Records of Woman, and are related by such a champion as Mrs. Hemans.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 20

ODE XX.—TO HIS MISTRESS.
On desert Phrygia's silent sands Poor Niobe an image stands; And Pandion's injured child, we know, Still, twittering, tells her tale of wo. But would the gods the change allow, And hear and grant my tender vow, Dear girl! thy mirror I would be, That thou might'st always smile on me.
Thy vest I'd be, to guard with care Those heaving breasts, and nestle there. Oh! would I were a limpid wave, Thy soft and beauteous limbs to lave; Thy perfumed oil, that I might share The glory of thy golden hair! Or, dearer still, that slender zone, Which makes thy beauties all its own: Thy pearly chain, that shines so fair, But cannot with thy neck compare: Thy very sandal I would be, To kiss the foot that trod on me!
* ↑ Niobe was the daughter of Tantalus, king of Phrygia, and wife of Amphion, king of Thebes; by whom, according to Homer, having six sons and six daughters, she became so proud of her offspring and high birth, that she had the vanity to prefer herself to Latona, the mother of Apollo and Diana; who, to revenge the affront offered to their parent, in one day slew all her children: on which Niobe was struck dumb with grief, and remained stupid. For that reason the poets have feigned her to be turned into a stone.—See Ovid's Met, book vi.
* ↑ The poet here alludes to the fabled transformation of Philomela. See note, p. 25.
* ↑ This ode has been imitated by many succeeding writers; and in our immortal bard, who needed no copy but nature, the following passage can only be said to present a remarkable coincidence:— "See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! Oh! that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!" Romeo and Juliet, act 2, scene 2.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 24

ODE XXIV.—LIFE TO BE ENJOYED.
Born a mortal; doom'd to tread Life's rough path of pain and wo,
All the past with ease is read, But the future who can know?
Hence! away, distracting cares, Make no fellowship with me; Point not to my silvering hairs, You and I shall ne'er agree.
Ere fate forbid all further joy, First amid the festive throng, Bacchus shall my hours employ With mirth, and dance, and joyous song.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 19

ODE XIX.—REASONS FOR DRINKING.
The earth drinks up the genial rains Which deluge all her thirsty plains;
The lofty trees that pierce the sky Drain up the earth and leave her dry; Th' insatiate sea imbibes, each hour, The welcome breeze that brings the show'r; The sun, whose fires so fiercely burn, Absorbs the wave; and, in her turn, The modest moon enjoys, each night, Large draughts of his celestial light. Then, sapient sirs, pray tell me why, If all things drink, why may not I?
* ↑ The poet here refers to the supply of moisture which trees receive by means of their roots and fibres.
* ↑ This passage, which seems to have given the commentators some trouble, is by many supposed to be an error in the text. I have followed the usual reading, though I think Fawkes's amendment very judicious. He has it, "the sea drinks up the rivers," certainly a much more natural idea.
* ↑ The moon is said to drink from the sun, because she borrows her light from that luminary.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 23

ODE XXIII.—THE VANITY OF WEALTH.
Could glittering heaps, or golden store, Life preserve, or health restore, Then with ceaseless, anxious pain, Riches I would strive to gain, That should death, unwish'd for, come, Pointing to the dreary tomb, I might cry, in sprightly tone, "Here's my ransom, Death! begone!" But, alas! since well I know Life cannot be purchased so, Why indulge the useless sigh? Fate decrees that all shall die. Vainly to our wealth we trust, Poor or wealthy—die we must. Present joys then let me share, Rosy wine to banish care; Cheerful friends that faithful prove, Beauty's smiles and blissful love.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 21

ODE XXI.—SUMMER.
Bring, maidens, bring a well-mix'd bowl, And let me slake my thirsty soul; For, scorch'd beneath this sultry sky, My spirits sink—I faint—I die. This garland, late so fresh and fair, I twined amid my curling hair; But all its faded flow'rets now Have wither'd on my burning brow. Bring fresher wreaths my head to shade; Bring others still when those shall fade. But, oh! what ease can wine impart
When love's fierce flame consumes the heart?
In vain to groves or shades I fly, This inward flame will never die!
* ↑ The custom of wearing garlands of flowers at entertainments has already been mentioned.
* ↑ The reflection here made by the poet is just and natural, and is similar to that at the conclusion of the fourteenth ode. When love has once taken possession of the heart, external defences cease to be useful.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 22

ODE XXII.—THE BOWER.
Haste, my love, this shade to seek, The spreading tree is passing fair, Like clust'ring curls on Beauty's cheek, See it waves its wanton hair.
The streamlet murm'ring at our feet Rolls its music through the grove; 'Tis a scene for lovers meet, Where each object whispers love.
The tree, the stream, the silent hour, All persuasive, seem to say,
"Viewing such a lovely bower, Can you pass another way?"
* ↑ This elegant little ode seems to be a great favourite with the translators and commentators. It has not been thought unworthy of his genius even by the philosophical Beattie, among whose poems it is to be found translated with singular accuracy and beauty.
* ↑ In the original it is literally a "fountain rolling or flowing with persuasion;" a beauty of expression which we must be contented to admire with very little hope of imitating, since our language seems to afford few facilities for accommodating sound to sense. Pope, no mean master of melody, has attempted it in that passage in his Art of Poetry intended to represent the whispering breeze and the flowing stream. "Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows." On this passage Dr. Johnson, in all the pride of acute, but rather ill-natured criticism, remarks, that "the verse intended to represent the whisper of the vernal breeze must be confessed not much to excel in softness or volubility; and the smooth stream runs with a perpetual clash of jarring consonants."—Rambler, vol. i., No. 92.
# Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 25

ODE XXV.—THE CURE FOR CARE.
When with gloomy griefs oppress'd, Wine can charm those griefs to rest; Toil and trouble, care and wo, I'm determined ne'er to know. Though in care my life were pass'd, Cruel death would come at last. Shall I ever anxious grieve? Shall I thus myself deceive? No! we'll drain the rosy bowl, 'Tis a cordial for the soul; 'Tis a charm that lulls to rest Every anxious, aching breast.
# Plays by Anton Tchekoff (Fell)/Ivanoff

This transcription includes audio from LibriVox.
Layout 2
IVANOFF
A PLAY
CHARACTERS
Nicholas Ivanoff, perpetual member of the Council of Peasant Affairs
Anna, his wife. Née Sarah Abramson
Matthew Shabelski, a count, uncle of Ivanoff
Paul Lebedieff, President of the Board of the Zemstvo
Zinaida, his wife
Sasha, their daughter, twenty years old
Lvorr, a young government doctor
Martha Babakina, a young widow, owner of an estate and daughter of a rich merchant
Kosich, an exciseman
Michael Borkin, a distant relative of Ivanoff, and manager of his estate
Avdotia Nazarovna, an old woman
Gerorge, lives with the Lebedieffs
First Guest
Second Guest
Third Guest
Fourth Guest
Peter, a servant of Ivanoff
Gabriel, a servant of Lebedieff
Guests of both sexes
The play takes place in one of the provinces of central Russia
* Act I
* Act II
* Act III
* Act IV
# Plays by Anton Tchekoff (Fell)/The Sea-Gull

This transcription includes audio from LibriVox.
Layout 2
THE SEA-GULL
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS
CHARACTERS
Irina Arkádina, an actress
Constantine Treplieff, her son
Peter Sorin, her brother
Nina Zarietchnaya, a young girl, the daughter of a rich landowner
Ilia Shamraeff, the manager of Sorin’s estate
Paulina, his wife
Masha, their daughter
Boris Trigorin, an author
Eugene Dorn, a doctor
Simon Medviedenko, a schoolmaster
Jacob, a workman
A Cook
A Maidservant
The scene is laid on Sorin’s estate. Two years elapse between the third and fourth acts.
* Act I
* Act II
* Act III
* Act IV
# Patterson v. Kentucky

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
97 U.S. 501
Patterson v. Kentucky
ERROR to the Court of Appeals of the State of Kentucky.
The facts are stated in the opinion of the court.
Mr. Matt. H. Carpenter for the plaintiff in error.
Mr. Albert Pike, contra.
Mr. JUSTICE HARLAN delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Patterson v. Jenks

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
27 U.S. 216
Patterson v. Jenks

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Poems (Osgood)

"happy at home"
Page 108
NEW-YORK
CLARK & AUSTIN.
1846.
"our cot was in a forest glade"
Page 111
POEMS
by
FRANCES S. OSGOOD.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY CLARK & AUSTIN.
M DCCC XLVI.
TO HER BEST FRIEND,
The following Pages
are affectionately and gratefully inscribed
by
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
The Author's chief fear, in collecting and publishing the following Poems, is that they may not be thought worthy the notice of that just and true criticism, whose praise and blame are alike valuable, and would by her be equally welcomed and appreciated.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Poems (Lewis)/The Orphan's Prayer

THE ORPHAN'S PRAYER.
# Poems (Lowell, 1844, English edition)

POEMS
BY
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
LONDON: C. E. MUDIE, 28, UPPER KING STREET, BLOOMSBURY SQUARE. 1844.
ADVERTISEMENT
TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
James Russell Lowell is a young American Poet of great promise, whose writings have already obtained considerable reputation in his own country. The present Volume, recently published in New York, is now reprinted in London, in the belief that its thoughtfulness and beauty will commend it to the attention of the English Public; more especially as it appears to furnish a fair specimen of that new development of intellect and feeling, which renders much of the recent literature of America attractive to the minds of many Europeans.
CONTENTS

### To be deleted as work is migrated
#### Contents

* "The Shepherd of King Admetus"
* "The Falcon"
* "Stanzas on Freedom"
* "Hunger and Cold"
* "The Search"
* "On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves Near Washington"
* "The Ghost-Seer"
* "Eurydice"
* "She Came and Went"
* "The Changeling"
* "Longing"
* "Lines suggested by the graves of two English Soldiers on the Concord Battle-Ground"
* "Beaver Brook"
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Poems (Lowell, 1844, English edition)/Prometheus

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
PROMETHEUS.
# Poems (Lewis)/To Georgina

TO GEORGINA,
ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
# Poems (Lewis)/To Vanity

TO VANITY.
# Poems (Lewis)/To my Sister

TO MY SISTER.
SENT WITH A RUBY, SET ROUND WITH BRILLIANTS.
# Poems (Lewis)/To the Hon. Charles W. S—.

TO THE HON. CHARLES W. S———.
# Poems (Lewis)/War, Victory, and Peace

WAR, VICTORY, AND PEACE.
# Poems (Lowell, 1844, English edition)/To William Page

TO
WILLIAM PAGE.
My Dear Friend,
The love between us, which can now look back upon happy years of still enlarging confidence, and forward, with a sure trust in its own prophecy of yet deeper and tenderer sympathies, as long as life shall remain to us, stands in no need, I am well aware, of so poor a voucher as an Epistle Dedicatory. True, it is one of Love's chiefest charms, that it must still take special pains to be superfluous in seeking out ways to declare itself,—but for these it demands no publicity, and wishes no acknowledgment. But the admiration which one soul feels for another loses half its worth, if it let slip any opportunity of making itself heard and felt by that strange Abbot of Unreason which we call the World. ​For the humblest man's true admiration is no uncertain oracle of the verdict of Posterity,—the unerring tribunal where Genius is at last allowed the right of trial by its peers, and to which none but sincere and real Greatness can appeal with an unwavering heart. There the false witnesses of today will be unable to appear, being fled to some hospitable Texas in the realms of Limbo, beyond. the sphere of its jurisdiction and the summons of its apparitors.
I have never seen the works of the Great Masters of your Art, but I have studied their lives, and sure I am that no nobler, gentler, or purer spirit than yours was ever anointed by the Eternal Beauty to bear that part of her divine message which it belongs to the Great Painter to reveal. The sympathy of sister pursuits, of an agreeing artistic faith, and, yet more, of a common hope for the final destiny of man, has not been wanting to us, and now you will forgive the pride I feel in having this advantage over you, namely, of telling that admiration in public which I have never stinted to utter ​in private. You will believe, that, as your winning that fadeless laurel, which you deserve, and which will one day surely be yours, can never heighten my judgment of you, so nothing that is not in your own control will ever lower it, and that I shall think as simply of you when the World's opinion has overtaken my own, as now.
As the swiftly diverging channels of Life bear wider and wider apart from us the friends who hoisted sail with us as fellow-mariners, when we cast off for the voyage, and as some, even, who arc yet side by side with us, no longer send back to us an answering cheer, we are drawn the more closely to those that remain, and I would fain hope that this joining of our names will always be one of our not least happy memories.
And so, with all best wishes,
I remain always your friend,
J. R. LOWELL.
Cambridge, December 15, 1843.
# Poems (Lowell, 1844, English edition)/The Fountain

THE FOUNTAIN.
# Pocahontas and Other Poems (New York)/Morn and Even

MORN AND EVEN.
"Thou makest the outgoings of the morning and of the evening to rejoice."—David.
The outgoings of sweet morn! See the light mist,  That spreads its white wing to the heavens away; See the fresh blossoms by the blithe bee kiss'd;  The hilltop kindling 'neath the King of Day Spire after spire, that drinks the genial ray;  The rocks, that in their rifted holds abide, And darkly frown, with heads forever gray;  While the clear stream gleams out in trembling pride Through its transparent veil, like a fair, timid bride.
Morn to the Earth! the cup of life she quaffs,  And countless voices hail the sparkling draught, Methinks the lamb beside its mother laughs;  Up soars the lark, with song his Maker taught; Sweet lisping murmurs wrap the infant's thought,  As gladly from the cottage door it creeps; The wild rill glitters through the lonely grot;  While the hoarse sea, whose anthem never sleeps, Reverberates God's praise through all its sounding deeps.
Morn to the watcher by the sick man's bed!  The slow, slow clock tells out the welcome hour, And to the air he springs with buoyant tread;  The poor caged bird sings sweet in lady's bower;
The farmer, watchful lest the skies may lower,  Thrusts his sharp sickle mid the bearded grain; While sportive voices, strong in childhood's power,  With merry music wake the village plain, And toil comes forth refresh'd, and age is young again.
The outgoings of mild eve! the folded rose;  Soft slumber settling on the lily's bell; The solemn forest lull'd to deep repose,  While restless winds no more its murmurs swell; The stars emerging from their secret cell,  A silent night-watch o'er the world to keep; And then the queenly moon, attended well,  Who o'er the mighty arch of heaven doth sweep, Speaking of Nature's King in language still and deep.
The charms of eve how sweet, he best can say,  Who, sickening at the city's dust and noise, And selfish arts that Mammon's votaries sway,  Turns to his home to taste its simple joys; There, climbing on his knee, his ruddy boys  Wake that warm thrill which every care repays, And fondly hasting from her baby-toys,  His prattling daughter seeks a father's gaze, And gives that tender smile which o'er his slumber plays.
She, too, who wins her bread by toil severe,  And from her home at early morn must go To earn the bread that dries her children's tear,  How hails her heart, the sun declining low! Love nerves the foot that else were sad and slow,  And when afar her lowly roof she spies, Forgot is all her lot of scorn and wo;
A mother's rapture kindles in her eyes, As to her wearied arms the eager nursling flies.
And see, from labour loosed, the drooping team,  Unharness'd, hasting to their fragrant food, While, fearful of the hawk's marauding scream,  The broad-wing'd mother folds her helpless brood; In the cool chambers of the teeming flood  The scaly monsters check their boisterous play, And, closely curtain'd mid the quiet wood,  The slumbering songsters hush their warbling lay, While man's sweet hymn of praise doth close the summer day.
# Pocahontas and Other Poems (New York)/Life's Evening

LIFE'S EVENING.
# Pocahontas and Other Poems (New York)/Mutations

MUTATIONS.
As waves the grass upon the fields to-day, Which soon the wasting scythe shall sweep away, As smiles the flow'ret in the morning dew, Which eve's chill blast in blighted death may strew, Thus in brief glory spring the sons of clay, Thus bloom a while, then wither and decay.
I saw an infant in its robe of white, The admiring mother's ever dear delight; It clapp'd its hands when tones of mirth went by, And nature's gladness glisten'd in its eye; Again I came—an empty crib was there, A little coffin, and a funeral prayer.
I saw a boy in healthful vigour bold, Nor summer's heat he fear'd, nor winter's cold, With dexterous foot he dared the frozen pool, His laugh rang loudest mid his mates at school; Again I came—his name alone was found On one low stone that marks yon churchyard mound.
I saw a gentle maid with beauty bless'd, In youth resplendent, and by love caress'd, Her clustering hair in sunny ringlets glow'd, Her red lips moved, and thrilling music flow'd; Again I came—her parents' halls were lone, And o'er her turf-bed rose the weeper's moan.
Oh boasted joys of earth! how swift ye fly, Rent from the heart or hidden from the eye; So through the web the weaver's shuttle glides, So speeds the vessel o'er the billowy tides, So cleaves the bird the liquid fields of light, And leaves no furrow of its trackless flight.
Dust tends to dust, with ashes, ashes blend, Yet when the grave ingulfs the buried friend, A few brief sighs may mark its yawning brink, A few salt tears the broken clods may drink, A few sad hearts with bursting anguish bleed, And pay that tribute which they soon must need.
They soon must need! But life's returning cares Sweep off the precious fruit that sorrow bears; The mourner drops his sable, and aspires To light anew ambition's smother'd fires, Bathes his worn brow with labour's wasting dew, And sleepless toils for heirs he knows not who.
Then He who marks us in our vain career, Oft smites in mercy what we hold most dear, Shreds from our vine the bowering leaves away, And breaks its tendrils from their grovelling stay, That the rich clusters, lifted to the sky, May ripen better for a world on high.