OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 12/From Jonathan Swift to Thomas Sheridan - 11

TO DR. SHERIDAN.
JULY 27, 1726.
I HAVE yours just now of the 19th, and the account you give me, is nothing but what I have some time expected with the utmost agonies; and there is one aggravation of constraint, that where I am, I am forced to put on an easy countenance. It was at this time the best office your friendship could do, not to deceive me. I was violently bent all last year, as I believe you remember, that she should go to Montpellier, or Bath, or Tunbridge. I entreated, ​if there was no amendment, they might both come to London. But there was a fatality, although I indeed think her stamina could not last much longer, when I saw she could take no nourishment. I look upon this to be the greatest event that can ever happen to me; but all my preparations will not suffice to make me bear it like a philosopher, nor altogether like a christian. There hath been the most intimate friendship between us from her childhood, and the greatest merit on her side, that ever was in one human creature toward another. Nay if I were now near her, I would not see her; I could not behave myself tolerably, and should redouble her sorrow. — Judge in what a temper of mind I write this. — The very time I am writing, I conclude the fairest soul in the world hath left its body. — Confusion! that I am this moment called down to a visitor, when I am in the country, and not in my power to deny myself. —— I have passed a very constrained hour, and now return to say I know not what. I have been long weary of the world, and shall for my small remainder of years be weary of life, having for ever lost that conversation, which could only make it tolerable. — I fear while you are reading this, you will be shedding tears at her funeral: she loved you well, and a great share of the little merit I have with you, is owing to her solicitations.
I writ to you about a week ago.
* ↑ This was written from Mr. Pope's at Twickenham.
* ↑ Soon after the date of this letter the dean went back to Ireland, but Mrs. Johnson recovering a moderate state of health, he returned again to England the beginning of the year 1727.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 12/From Jonathan Swift to Thomas Sheridan - 17

TO DR. SHERIDAN.
LONDON, SEPT. 2, 1727.
I HAD yours of the 19th of August, which I answered the 29th from Twickenham. I came to town on the last day of August, being impatient of staying there longer, where so much company came to us while I was so giddy and deaf. I am now got to my cousin Lancelot's house, where I desire all letters may be directed to me; I am still in the same condition, or rather worse, for I walk like a drunken man, and am deafer than ever you knew me. If I had any tolerable health, I would go this moment to ​Ireland; yet I think I would not, considering the news I daily expect to hear from you. I have just received yours of August 24; I kept it an hour in my pocket with all the suspense of a man who expected to hear the worst news that fortune could give him; and at the same time was not able to hold up my head. These are the perquisites of living long: the last act of life is always a tragedy at best; but it is a bitter aggravation to have one's best friend go before one. I desired in my last, that you would not enlarge upon that event: but tell me the bare fact. I long knew that our dear friend had not the stamina vitæ; but my friendship could not arm me against this accident, although I foresaw it. I have said enough in my last letter, which now I suppose is with you. I know not whether it be an addition to my grief or not, that I am now extremely ill; for it would have been a reproach to me to be in perfect health, when such a friend is desperate. I do profess upon my salvation, that the distressed and desperate condition of our friend, makes life so indifferent to me, who by course of nature have so little left, that I do not think it worth the time to struggle; yet I should think, according to what hath been formerly, that I may happen to overcome this present disorder; and to what advantage? Why, to see the loss of that person for whose sake only life was worth preserving. I brought both those friends over, that we might be happy together as long as God should please; the knot is broken, and the remaining person, you know, has ill answered the end; and the other, who is now to be lost, is all that was ​valuable. You agreed with me, or you are a great hypocrite. What have I to do in the world? I never was in such agonies as when I received your letter, and had it in my pocket. I am able to hold up my sorry head no longer.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 12/From Jonathan Swift to Thomas Sheridan - 12

TO DR. SHERIDAN.
LONDON, MAY 13, 1727.
THIS goes by a private hand, for my writing is too much known, and my letters often stopped and opened. ​I had yours of the 4th instant, and it is the only one I have received out of Ireland, since I left you. I hardly thought our friend would be in danger by a cold; I am of opinion she should be generally in the country, and only now and then visit the town. — We are here in a strange situation; a firm settled resolution to assault the present administration, and break it if possible. It is certain that Walpole is peevish and disconcerted, stoops to the vilest offices of hireling scoundrels to write Billingsgate of the lowest and most prostitute kind, and has none but beasts and blockheads for his penmen, whom he pays in ready guineas very liberally. I am in high displeasure with him and his partisans: a great man, who was very kind to me last year, doth not take the least notice of me at the prince's court, and there hath not been one of them to see me. I am advised by all my friends, not to go to France (as I intended for two months) for fear of their vengeance in a manner which they cannot execute here. —— I reckon there will be a warm winter, wherein my comfort is, I shall have no concern. I desire you will read this letter to none but our two friends, and Mr. P——; his cousin with the red ribbon inquired very kindly after him. —— I hear no news about your bishops, farther than that the lord lieutenant stickles to have them of Ireland, which Walpole always is averse from, but does not think it worth his trouble to exert his credit on such trifles. The dispute about a war or no war still continues, and the major part inclines to the latter, although ten thousand men are ordered for Holland. But this will bring such an addition to our debts, that it will give great advantages against those in power, in the next sessions. ​Walpole laughs at all this, but not so heartily as he used. I have at last seen the princess twice this week by her own commands; she retains her old civility, and I my old freedom; she charges me without ceremony to be author of a bad book, though I told her how angry the ministry were; but she assures me, that both she and the prince were very well pleased with every particular; but I disown the whole affair, as you know I very well might, only gave her leave, since she liked the book, to suppose what author she pleased. —— You will wonder to find me say so much of politicks, but I keep very bad company, who are full of nothing else. Pray be very careful of your charge, or I shall order my lodgers the bulk of their glasses, and the number of their bottles. —— I stole this time to write to you, having very little to spare. I go as soon as possible to the country, and shall rarely see this town.
My service to all friends.
I desire you will send me six sets of the edition of the Drapiers, by the first convenience of any friend or acquaintance that comes hither.
* ↑ Caroline, princess of Wales, afterward queen, consort of George II.
* ↑ Gulliver's Travels.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 12/From Jonathan Swift to Thomas Sheridan - 16

TO DR. SHERIDAN.
TWICKENHAM, AUG. 29, 1727.
I HAVE had your letter of the 19th, and expect, before you read this, to receive another from you with the most fatal news that can ever come to me, unless I should be put to death for some ignominious crime. I continue very ill with my giddiness and deafness, of which I had two days intermission, but since worse, and I shall be perfectly content if God shall please to call me away at this time. Here is a triple cord of friendship broke, which hath lasted thirty years, twenty-four of which in Ireland. I beg, if you have not writ to me before you get this, to tell me no particulars, but the event in general: my weakness, my age, my friendship will bear no more. I have mentioned the case as well as I knew it to a physician, who is my friend; and I find his methods were the same, air and exercise, and at last ass's milk. I will tell you sincerely, that if I were younger, and in health, or in hopes of it, I would endeavour to divert my mind by all methods in order to pass my life in quiet; but I now want only three months of sixty. I am strongly visted with a disease, that will at last cut me off, if I should this time escape; if not, I have but a poor remainder, and that is below any wise man's valuing. I do not intend to return to Ireland so soon as I purposed; I would not be there in the very midst of grief. I desire you will speak to Mr. Worrall to get a new license about the beginning of October, when my ​old one (as he will see by the date) shall expire; but if that fatal accident were not to happen, I am not able to travel in my present condition. What I intend is, immediately to leave this place, and go with my cousin for a nurse about five miles from London on the other side toward the sea, and if I recover, I will either pass this winter near Salisbury plain, or in France; and therefore I desire Mr. Worrall may make this license run like the former [To Great Britain, or elsewhere, for the recovery of his health].
Neither my health, nor grief will permit me to say more: your directions to Mr. Lancelot at his house in New Bond street, over against the Crown and Cushion, will reach me. Farewell.
This stroke was unexpected, and my fears last year were ten times greater.
# The spiders of weariness come on me...

This poem has no title; it is referred to by its opening line.
The spiders of weariness come on me To weave wide webs on my brain. I must go to the night and the sighing sea And the drive of the drifting rain.
# The spinning o't

Sung to the tune of "Rock and wee pickle tow."
* "The spinning o't" in Catherine Ogie (1820)
* "The spinning o't" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843)
# The spirit of place, and other essays

London and New York: John Lane, The Bodley Head, pages iii–vii
THE SPIRIT OF PLACE
AND OTHER ESSAYS
BY
ALICE MEYNELL
JOHN LANE
THE BODLEY HEAD
LONDON AND NEW YORK
1899
Copyright, 1898, By JOHN LANE
Dedicated
TO THE MEMORY OF
COVENTRY PATMORE
CONTENTS.
| | | PAGE |
| 1. | The Spirit of Place | 1 |
| 2. | Mrs. Dingley | 8 |
| 3. | Solitude | 16 |
| 4. | The Lady of the Lyrics | 23 |
| 5. | July | 31 |
| 6. | Wells | 36 |
| 7. | The Foot | 43 |
| 8. | Have Patience, Little Saint | 49 |
| 9. | The Ladies of the Idyll | 56 |
| 10. | A Derivation | 64 |
| 11. | A Counterchange | 69 |
| 12. | Rain | 77 |
| 13. | Letters of Marceline Valmore | 81 |
| 14. | The Hours of Sleep | 86 |
| 15. | The Horizon | 92 |
| 16. | Habits and Consciousness | 98 |
| 17. | Shadows | 101 |
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
# The manna favored Israel's meat

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
Manna hoarded by John Newton
    The manna favored Israel's meat,
    Was gathered day by day;
    When all the host was served, the heat
    Melted the rest away.
    In vain to hoard it up they tried,
    Against tomorrow came;
    It then bred worms and putrefied,
    And proved their sin and shame.
    'Twas daily bread and would not keep,
    But must be still renewed;
    Faith should not want a hoard or heap,
    But trust the LORD for food.
    The truths by which the soul is fed,
    Must thus be had afresh;
    For notions resting in the head,
    Will only feed the flesh.
    However true, they have no life,
    Or unction to impart;
    They breed the worms of pride and strife,
    But cannot cheer the heart.
    Nor can the best experience past,
    The life of faith maintain;
    The brightest hope will faint at last,
    Unless supplied again.
    Dear Lord, while we in prayer are found,
    Do thou the Manna give;
    O! let it fall on all around,
    That we may eat and live.
# The married man's lament, or, Fairly shot of her

Dated from the Scottish Book Trade Index and external evidence.
Τ Η Ε
Married Man's Lament;
O R,
Fairly Shot of Her.
To which is added,
The BUTCHER'S DAUGHTER.
The Roving Young MAN.
Todlan Butt, and Todlan Ben.
The Complaint of the Poor.
Entered according to Order.
* Fairly shot of her
* The butcher's daughter
* The roving young man
* Todlan butt, and todlan ben
* The complaint of the poor
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
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Grant, William

​GRANT, William (M.P. for North Belfast, Northern Parliament, Ireland, from 1921). Res.: 83 Ruth Street, Belfast.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Green, Alice Sophia Amelia

​GREEN, Alice Sophia Amelia, Litt D. (Liverpool). Educ. by private reading at home. Pubns.: Short Geography of the British Islands, 1880; Henry II. (Twelve English Statesmen), 1888; Town Life in the Fifteenth Century, 1894; contributions to Nineteenth Century; Revue de Paris; Studies, etc. Edited: The Conquest of England, 1883; revised ed. of the Short History, 1888; illustrated ed. of Short History (with Miss K. Norgate), 1892; Oxford Studies (with Miss K. Norgate), 1901; edited: Historical Studies, 1903; Stray Studies, 2nd series, 1903; The Making of Ireland and its Undoing, 1908; Irish Nationality, 1911; The Old Irish World, 1912; Woman's Place in the World of Letters, 1913; new edition of the Short History, with an added Epilogue, the history of the Nineteenth Century, 1916; pamphlets: Ourselves Alone in Ulster; Loyalty and Disloyalty: what it means in Ireland, 1918; b. Kells, Ireland; 7th child of Edward Adderley Stopford, Archdeacon of Meath, and Anne Catherine Duke, Co. Sligo: m. 1877, late John Richard Green, LL.D., Hon. Fellow Jesus College, Oxford. Res: 90 Stephen's Green, Dublin.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Green, George Comerford

​GREEN, George Comerford, B.A. (T.C.D.); Barrister King's Inns. 1886; K.C. 1906; late Professor of English Law, University College, Cork; County Court Judge, Cos. Armagh and Louth, 1909-21; Cos. Armagh and Fermanagh from 1921; 3rd son of late James Sullivan Green, Q.C., of Ah: Hill, Co. Cork; m. 1911, Gwladya, dau. of Reginald Vaughan of Glentrothy, Abergavenny; one son. Res.: Herberton, Blackrock, Co. Dublin. Clubs: University, Dublin; Cork County, Cork.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Green, Lieut.-Col. James Sullivan

​GREEN, Lieut.-Col. James Sullivan, B.A., M.B., B.Ch. (T.C.D.), late Lieut.-Col. R.A.M.C. Educ. at Ushaw and T.C.D.; served in Manipur Expedition of 1881; in Burma,, 1891-2; Sth. African War, including Defence of Ladysmith, 1899-1901; served in European War, 1914; interested in Irish language and antiquities; second son of late James Sullivan Green, Q.C., J.P., of Air Hill, Glanworth, Co. Cork; b. 1861. Res.: Air Hill, Glanworth, Co. Cork.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Green, Thomas Sullivan

​GREEN, Thomas Sullivan, B.A. (T.C.D.), J.P. for Co. Cork. Educ, at Ushaw and T.C.D.; an Asst. Land Commissioner. Ireland, since 1908; eldest son of late James Sullivan Green, Q.C., of Air Hill, Glanworth, Co. Cork, and Ann (d. 1883), only dau. of James F. Comerford, of Kinsale; b. 1860; m. 1915, Mrs. Lily Birmingham, Res.: Air Hill, Glanworth, Co, Cork.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Greer, Capt. Joseph Henry

​GREER, Capt. Joseph Henry. Capt. late Highland Light Infantry: only son of Gen. H. H. Greer, C.B., D.L., of The Grange, Moy, Co. Tyrone; b. 1855; m. 1886, Olivia M., eldest dau. of Major-Gen. Geo. de la Poer Beresford. Res.: Curragh Grange, The Curragh, Co. Kildare.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Graham, Capt. Ogilvie Blair

​GRAHAM, Capt. Ogilvie Blair, J.P. Co. Down: late Capt. 5th Batt. Royal Irish Rifles; eldest son of late Ogilvie Blair Graham, D.L., J.P., of Larchfield, Co. Down; b. 1865; m. 1890, Grace, dau. of Rt. Hon. John Young, of Galgorn Castle, Co. Antrim. Res.: Larchfield, Lisburn.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Granard, Earl of

Bernard Arthur William Patrick Hastings Forbes
​GRANARD, Earl of, 1684; Viscount Granard and Baron of Clanehugh, 1673 (Irld.): Baron Granard (Unit. Kgd., 1806), a Bart. (Nova Scotia, 1628), Bernard Arthur William Patrick Hastings Forbes, 8th Earl, K.P. (1909), P.C. (1909), P.C. (Irld., 1918), G.C.V.O. (1915), Lord-in-Waiting to the King, December, 1905; Vice- Admiral of Connaught, 1915; Master of the Horse, 1907-1915; Assistant Postmaster-General, March, 1906-10; late Lieut-Col. Comdg. the Post Office Rifles; Raised and Comd. 5th Royal Irish Regt. (Pioneers), European War, 1914-16; Mil. Sec. to Com.-in-Chief, British Salonika Force, Jan., 1916, to May, 1917; Lieut.-Col. in Army; Awarded the Legion of Honour (Officier) by President French Republic, and White Eagle, 4th class, with Swords, by King of Serbia; Commander of Order of The Redeemer of Greece; Member of Irish Convention, July, 1917; four times mentioned in despatches; Special Ambassador, 1910, to announce King George's Accession at the Courts of Brussels, The Hague, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Christiania, Lisbon and Madrid; Grand Cross of the Polar Star of Sweden; Grand Cross of the Order of Isobel the Catholic of Spain; Grand Cross of the Order of Charles III. of Spain; Grand Cross, Order of Danebrog of Denmark; Companion of the Military Order of Merit of Spain; H.M.'s Lieutenant Co. Longford, 1916; late Lieut. 3rd Batt. Gordon Highlanders; late Captain 1st Scots Guards; eldest son of George, 7th Earl, K.P., and the Hon. Frances Mary (d. 1920), dau of 12th Baron Petre; b. 17th Sept., 1874; s. his father 25th Aug., 1889; m. 14th Jan., 1909, Beatrice, O.B.E., dau. of Ogden Mills, of Staatsburg, Dutchess County, U.S.A., and has issue two sons and two daus. Res.: Castle Forbes, Newtown Forbes, Co. Longford; Forbes House, Halkin Street, London, S.W.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Gray, Baroness of Gray

Ethel Eveleen Gray-Campbell
​GRAY, Baroness of Gray (Scotl., 1444), Ethel Eveleen Gray-Campbell, Baroness; dau. of Eveleen Smith Gray, 20th Baroness, and James Maclaren Stuart Gray (d. 1900); b. 1866; s. her brother, 4th May, 1919; m. 1888, Henry Tufnell Campbell. Issue, two sons and one dau. Res.: Brownswood, Enniscorthy, Co. Wexford; 7 Collingham Gardens, London, S.W.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Greene, Harry Plunket

​GREENE Harry Plunket, baritone. Educ. at Dublin, Clifton College, Stuttgart, Florence and London; was educated for ​the Bar, but having a fine voice, adopted music as a profession; studied singing and music with Barraclough in Dublin, Hromada in Stuttgart, Vannuccini in Florence, Alfred Blume and Francis Korbay in London; first appeared at Mrs. Scott Ffennell's concert in Dublin, March, 1887; has sung at most of the principal London concerts and provincial festivals, and has given song recitals all over Great Britain and America, which he has visited on many occasions, and has sung in grand opera at Covent Garden; is a professor R.C.M. Recns.: Outdoor sports and games; son of Richard J. Greene, barrister, and Hon. Louisa Plunket, fourth dau. of 3rd Baron Plunket; b. in Dublin, 24th June, 1865; m. 1899, Gwendolen Maud, dau. of Sir C. H. Parry, Bart. Res.: 48 Iverna Gardens, Kensington, London, W.; Chefford, Woodlands House, Hungerford. Clubs: Junior Carlton, Savile, Hampshire C.C.C., Chorley Wood Golf Club.
# The year's at the spring/Yeats, W. B

The Fiddler of Dooney
WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney, Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Moharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin: They read in their books of prayer; I read in my book of songs I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time, To Peter sitting in state, He will smile on the three old spirits, But call me first through the gate;
For the good are always the merry, Save by an evil chance, And the merry love the fiddle, And the merry love to dance:
​And when the folk there spy me, They will all come up to me, With "Here is the fiddler of Dooney!" And dance like a wave of the sea.
W. B. YEATS
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always, night and day, I hear lake-water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core.
W. B. YEATS
# The year's at the spring/Young, Francis Brett

February
THE robin on my lawn He was the first to tell How, in the frozen dawn, This miracle befell, Waking the meadows white With hoar, the iron road Agleam with splintered light, And ice where water flowed: Till, when the low sun drank Those milky mists that cloak Hanger and hollied bank, The winter world awoke To hear the feeble bleat Of lambs on downland farms: A blackbird whistled sweet; Old beeches moved their arms Into a mellow haze Aerial, newly-born: And I, alone, agaze, Stood waiting for the thorn ​To break in blossom white, Or burst in a green flame.... So, in a single night, Fair February came, Bidding my lips to sing Or whisper their surprise, With all the joy of spring And morning in her eyes.
FRANCIS BRETT YOUNG
# The year's at the spring/Webb, Marion St John

The Sunset Garden
I CAN see from the window a little brown house, And the garden goes up to the top of the hill. And the sun comes each day, And slips down away At the end of the garden an' sleeps there ... until The daylight comes climbing up over the hill.
I do wish I lived in the little brown house, Then at night I'd go out to the garden, an' creep Up ... up ... then I'd stop, An' lean over the top, At the end of the garden, an' so I could peep, And see what the sun looks like when it's asleep.
MARION ST JOHN WEBB