OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Welsh Melodies/The Harp of Wales

20
THE HARP OF WALES.
INTRODUCTORY STANZAS, INSCRIBED TO THE RUTHIN WELSH LITERARY SOCIETY.
Harp of the mountain-land! sound forth again  As when the foaming Hirlas$^1$ horn was crown'd, And warrior hearts beat proudly to the strain,  And the bright mead at Owain's feast went round: Wake with the spirit and the power of yore! Harp of the ancient hills! be heard once more!
Thy tones are not to cease! The Roman came  O'er the blue waters with his thousand oars: Through Mona's oaks he sent the wasting flame;  The Druid shrines lay prostrate on our shores: All gave their ashes to the wind and sea— Ring out, thou harp! he could not silence thee.
Thy tones are not to cease! The Saxon pass'd,  His banners floated on Eryri's gales;$^2$ But thou wert heard above the trumpet's blast,  E'en when his towers rose loftiest o'er the vales! Thine is the voice that cheer'd the brave and free; They had their hills, their chainless hearts, and thee.
Those were dark years!—They saw the valiant fall,  The rank weeds gathering round the chieftain’s board, The hearth left lonely in the ruin'd hall—  Yet power was thine—a gift in every chord! Call back that spirit to the days of peace, Thou noble harp! thy tones are not to cease!
* ↑ $^1$Hirlas, from hir, long, and glas, blue or azure.
* ↑ $^2$Eryri, the Welsh name for the Snowdon mountains.
# Welsh Melodies/The Dying Bard's Prophecy

21
THE DYING BARD'S PROPHECY.$^1$
The hall of harps is lone to-night,  And cold the chieftain's hearth: It hath no mead, it hath no light;  No voice of melody, no sound of mirth.
The bow lies broken on the floor  Whence the free step is gone; The pilgrim turns him from the door  Where minstrel-blood hath stain'd the threshold stone.
"And I, too, go: my wound is deep,  My brethren long have died; Yet, ere my soul grow dark with sleep,  Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride!
"Bear it where, on his battle-plain,  Beneath the setting sun, He counts my country's noble slain—  Say to him—Saxon, think not all is won.
"Thou hast laid low the warrior's head,  The minstrel's chainless hand: Dreamer! that numberest with the dead  The burning spirit of the mountain-land!
"Think'st thou, because the song hath ceased,  The soul of song is flown? Think'st thou it woke to crown the feast,  It lived beside the ruddy hearth alone?
"No! by our wrongs, and by our blood!  We leave it pure and free; Though hush'd awhile, that sounding flood  Shall roll in joy through ages yet to be.
"We leave it midst our country's woe—  The birthright of her breast; We leave it as we leave the snow  Bright and eternal on Eryri's crest.
We leave it with our fame to dwell  Upon our children's breath; Our voice in theirs through time shall swell—  The bard hath gifts of prophecy from death.
He dies; but yet the mountains stand,  Yet sweeps the torrent's tide; And this is yet Aneurin's$^2$ land—  Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride!
* ↑ $^1$ At the time of the supposed massacre of the Welsh bards by Edward the First.
* ↑ $^2$ Aneurin , one of the noblest of the Welsh bards.
# Welsh Melodies/The Hirlas Horn

3
THE HIRLAS HORN.
Fill high the blue hirlas that shines like the wave$^3$  When sunbeams are bright on the spray of the sea; And bear thou the rich foaming mead to the brave,  The dragons of battle, the sons of the free! To those from whose spears, in the shock of the fight,
 A beam, like heaven's lightning,$^4$ flash'd over the field; To those who came rushing as storms in their might,  Who have shiver'd the helmet, and cloven the shield; The sound of whose strife was like oceans afar,  When lances were red from the harvest of war.
Fill high the blue hirlas! O cup-bearer, fill  For the lords of the field in their festival's hour, And let the mead foam, like the stream of the hill  That bursts o'er the rock in the pride of its power: Praise, praise to the mighty, fill high the smooth horn  Of honour and mirth,$^5$ for the conflict is o'er; And round let the golden-tipp'd hirlas be borne  To the lion-defenders of Gwynedd's fair shore, Who rush'd to the field where the glory was won, As eagles that soar from their cliffs to the sun.
Fill higher the hirlas! forgetting not those  Who shared its bright draught in the days which are fled! Though cold on their mountains the valiant repose,  Their lot shall be lovely—renown to the dead! While harps in the hall of the feast shall be strung,  While regal Eryri with snow shall be crown'd— So long by the bards shall their battles be sung,  And the heart of the hero shall burn at the sound. The free winds of Maelor$^1$ shall swell with their name,  And Owain's rich hirlas be fill'd to their fame.
* ↑ $^3$"Fetch the horn, that we may drink together, whose gloss is like the waves of the sea; whose green handles show the skill of the artist, and are tipped with gold."—From the Hirlas Horn of Owain Cyfeiliog.
* ↑ $^4$"Heard ye in Maelor the noise of war, the horrid din of arms, their furious onset, loud as in the battle of Bangor, where fire flashed out of their spears?"—From the same.
* ↑ $^5$"Fill, then, the yellow-lipped horn—badge of honour and mirth."—From the same.
* ↑ $^1$Maelor, part of the counties of Denbigh and Flint, according to the modern division.
# Welsh Melodies/The Rock of Cader Idris

7
THE ROCK OF CADER IDRIS.
[It is an old tradition of the Welsh bards, that on the summit of the mountain Cader Idris, is an excavation resembling a couch; and that whoever should pass a night in that hollow, would be found in the morning either dead, in a frenzy, or endowed with the highest poetical inspiration.]
I lay on that rock where the storms have their dwelling,
 The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the cloud; Around it for ever deep music is swelling,  The voice of the mountain-wind, solemn and loud. 'Twas a midnight of shadows all fitfully streaming,  Of wild waves and breezes, that mingled their moan;
Of dim shrouded stars, as from gulfs faintly gleaming;  And I met the dread gloom of its grandeur alone.
I lay there in silence—a spirit came o'er me;  Man's tongue hath no language to speak what I saw;
Things glorious, unearthly, pass'd floating before me,  And my heart almost fainted with rapture and awe. I view’d the dread beings around us that hover,  Though veil'd by the mists of mortality's breath; And I call'd upon darkness the vision to cover,  For a strife was within me of madness and death.
I saw them—the powers of the wind and the ocean,  The rush of whose pinion bears onward the storms; Like the sweep of the white-rolling wave was their motion—  I felt their dim presence, but knew not their forms! I saw them—the mighty of ages departed—  The dead were around me that night on the hill: From their eyes, as they pass'd, a cold radiance they darted,—  There was light on my soul, but my heart's blood was chill.
I saw what man looks on, and dies—but my spirit  Was strong, and triumphantly lived through that hour; And, as from the grave, I awoke to inherit  A flame all immortal, a voice, and a power! Day burst on that rock with the purple cloud crested,
 And high Cader Idris rejoiced in the sun;— But oh! what new glory all nature invested,  When the sense which gives soul to her beauty was won!$^{1}$
# Welsh Melodies/The Fair Isle

11
THE FAIR ISLE.$^3$
FOR THE MELODY CALLED THE "WELSH GROUND."
[The Bard of the Palace, under the ancient Welsh princes, always accompanied the army when it marched into an enemy's country; and, while it was preparing for battle or dividing the spoils, he performed an ancient song, called Unbennaeth Prydain, the Monarchy of Britain. It has been conjectured that this poem referred to the tradition of the Welsh, that the whole island had once been possessed by their ancestors, who were driven into a corner of it by their Saxon invaders. When the prince had received his share of the spoils, the bard, for the performance of this song, was rewarded with the most valuable beast that remained.—Jones's Historical Account of the Welsh Bards.]
I.
Ere spoilers had breathed the free air of your clime; All that its eagles behold in their flight
Was yours, from the deep to each storm-mantled height. Though from your race that proud birthright be torn, Unquench'd is the spirit for monarchy born.
CHORUS.
Darkly though clouds may hang o'er us awhile, The crown shall not pass from the Beautiful Isle.
II.
The land for which heroes have perish'd in vain; Yet, in the sound of your names shall be power, Around her still gathering in glory's full hour. Strong in the fame of the mighty that sleep, Your Britain shall sit on the throne of the deep.
CHORUS.
Then shall their spirits rejoice in her smile, Who died for the crown of the Beautiful Isle.
# Welsh Melodies/The Lament of Llywarch Hen

8
THE LAMENT OF LLYWARCH HEN.
[Llywarch Hen, or Llywarch the Aged, a celebrated bard and chief of the times of Arthur, was prince of Argoed, supposed to be a part of the present Cumberland. Having sustained the loss of his patrimony, and witnessed the fall of most of his sons, in the unequal contest maintained by the North Britons against the growing power of the Saxons, Llywarch was compelled to fly from his country, and seek refuge in Wales. He there found an asylum for some time in the residence of Cynddylan, Prince of Powys, whose fall he pathetically laments in one of his poems. These are still extant; and his elegy on old age and the loss of his sons, is remarkable for its simplicity and beauty.—See Cambrian Biography, and Owen's Heroic Elegies and other poems of Llywarch Hen.]
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing With song, and the hills are all mantled with bloom; But fairer than aught which the summer is bringing, The beauty and youth gone to people the tomb! Oh! why should I live to hear music resounding, Which cannot awake ye, my lovely, my brave? Why smile the waste flowers, my sad footsteps surrounding? —My sons! they but clothe the green turf of your grave!
Alone on the rocks of the stranger I linger, My spirit all wrapt in the past as a dream! Mine ear hath no joy in the voice of the singer,$^3$ Mine eye sparkles not to the sunlight's glad beam; Yet, yet I live on, though forsaken and weeping! —O grave! why refuse to the aged thy bed, When valour's high heart on thy bosom is sleeping, When youth's glorious flower is gone down to the dead!
Fair were ye, my sons! and all kingly your bearing, As on to the fields of your glory ye trode!
Each prince of my race the bright golden chain wearing, Each eye glancing fire, shrouded now by the sod!$^4$ I weep when the blast of the trumpet is sounding, Which rouses ye not, O my lovely! my brave! When warriors and chiefs to their proud steeds are bounding,
I turn from heaven's light, for it smiles on your grave!$^5$
* ↑ $^3$ "What I loved when I was a youth is hateful to me now"
* ↑ $^4$ "Four and twenty sons to me have been Wearing the golden chain, and leading princes." Elegies of Llywarch Hen. The golden chain, as a badge of honour, worn by heroes, is frequently alluded to in the works of the ancient British bards.
* ↑ $^5$ "Hardly has the snow covered the vale, When the warriors are hastening to the battle; I do not go, I am hinder'd by infirmity." Elegies of Llywarch Hen.
# Welsh Melodies/The Green Isles of Ocean

1
THE GREEN ISLES OF OCEAN.$^1$
Where are they, those green fairy islands, reposing In sunlight and beauty on ocean's calm breast! What spirit, the things which are hidden disclosing, Shall point the bright way to their dwellings of rest?
Oh! lovely they rose on the dreams of past ages, The mighty have sought them, undaunted in faith; But the land hath been sad for her warriors and sages,
For the guide to those realms of the blessèd is death.
Where are they, the high-minded children of glory, Who steer'd for those distant green spots on the wave? To the winds of the ocean they left their wild story, In the fields of their country they found not a grave.
Perchance they repose where the summer-breeze gathers From the flowers of each vale immortality's breath; But their steps shall be ne'er on the hills of their fathers— For the guide to those realms of the blessèd is death.
# Welsh Melodies/The Lament of the Last Druid

2
THE LAMENT OF THE LAST DRUID*.
Air—"The Melody of Mona."
I. The harp is hush'd on Mona's shore,
And mute the voice of mystic lore,
 And the deep woods lie low!
Where were the Dark Isle's† vengeful gods,
When thus their shrines and dread abodes
 Received the insulting foe?
Who shall recal the Druid Seers,
They that could lift the veil of years?
The home is silent midst the slain,
And I alone on earth remain,
On the wild winds to pour one strain,
 A dirge for Mona's woe!
II. The stars on Mona's rocks look down,
And far Eryri's* mountain-crown,
 And Ocean's glitt'ring wave;
But those, who track'd, with gifted eyes,
Their burning pathway through the skies,
 Lie slumbering in the grave!
There, too, shall rest the lore sublime,
The secrets of primæval Time;
For Mona's Guardian Powers are fled,
Her oaks have bow'd their crested head†;
Take me, ye dwellings of the dead,
 Homes of the wise and brave!
* ↑ *This beautiful Melody is from Mr. Parry's second volume of "Welsh Melodies," just published, and is the composition (we mean the words only) of Mrs. Hemans, of the productions of whose muse it is scarcely possible to speak in terms exceeding their merit. We mean to trespass again upon Mr. Parry's very interesting volume.-Ed.
* ↑ "†Anglesea, (or Mona,) from its thick woods of oak, was anciently called the Dark Island."
* ↑ "*Eryri—the Snowdon mountains."
* ↑ "†In A.D. 58, Suetonius Paulinus, the Roman General, penetrated into Mona, but was opposed by the Druids, whom he overpowered, cut down their groves, and massacred a vast many of them. Those, who escaped, retired to Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man. But about the year 286 Cratylinth, a King of Scotland, expelled them from that country, and from the Isle of Man, which was the Presidency of the Order.— Vide Warrington's History of Wales."
# Welsh Melodies/The Mountain Fires

17
THE MOUNTAIN FIRES.
["The custom retained in Wales of lighting fires (Coelcerthi) on November eve, is said to be a traditional memorial of the massacre of the British chiefs by Hengist, on Salisbury plain. The practice is, however, of older date, and had reference originally to the Alban Elved, or new-year."—Cambro-Briton.
When these fires are kindled on the mountains, and seen through the darkness of a stormy night, casting a red and fitful glare over heath and rock, their effect is strikingly picturesque.]
Light the hills! till heaven is glowing  As with some red meteor's rays! Winds of night, though rudely blowing,  Shall but fan the beacon-blaze. Light the hills! till flames are streaming  From Yr Wyddfa's sovereign steep,$^1$ To the waves round Mona gleaming,  Where the Roman track'd the deep!
Be the mountain watch-fires heighten'd.  File them to the stormy sky! Till each torrent-wave is brighten'd,  Kindling as it rushes by. Now each rock, the mist's high dwelling,  Towers in reddening light sublime; Heap the flames! around them telling  Tales of Cambria's elder time.
Thus our sires, the fearless-hearted,  Many a solemn vigil kept, When, in ages long departed,  O'er the noble dead they wept. In the winds we hear their voices—  "Sons! though yours a brighter lot. When the mountain-land rejoices,  Be her mighty unforgot!"
# Williams v. Green Bay & Co

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
326 U.S. 549
WILLIAMS et al. v. GREEN BAY & W.R. CO.
Argued: Dec. 10, 1945. --- Decided: Jan 7, 1946
Mr. Milton Pollack, of New York City, for petitioners.
Mr. W. Lloyd Kitchel, of New York City, for respondent.
Mr. Justice DOUGLAS 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
# Williams v. Hagood

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
98 U.S. 72
Williams v. Hagood
APPEAL from the Circuit Court of the United States for the District of South Carolina.
The facts are stated in the opinion of court.
Mr. Denis McMahon for the appellant.
Mr. Le Roy F. Youmans, Attorney-General of South Carolina, contra.
MR. JUSTICE STRONG 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
# Williams v. Illinois

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.

## Concurring Opinion

    Harlan
United States Supreme Court
399 U.S. 235
Willie E. WILLIAMS, Appellant, v. State of ILLINOIS.
Argued: April 22, 1970. --- Decided: June 29, 1970
Stanley A. Bass, Chicago, Ill., for appellant.
James R. Thompson, Chicago, Ill., for appellee.
Mr. Chief Justice BURGER 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
# Williams v. Hobbs

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.

## Dissenting Opinion

    Sotomayor
Cite as: 562 U. S. ____ (2010)
SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
MARCEL WAYNE WILLIAMS v. RAY HOBBS, DIRECTOR, ARKANSAS DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTION
ON PETITION FOR WRIT OF CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE EIGHTH CIRCUIT
The motion of Scholars of Habeas Corpus Law for leave to file a brief as amici curiae is granted. The petition for a writ of certiorari is denied.
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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
# Woman of the Century/Elizabeth Cumings

​CUMINGS, Mrs. Elizabeth, see Pierce, Mrs. Elizabeth Cummings.
# Woman of the Century/Elizabeth Edgar

​ELIZABETH EDGAR. EDGAR, Mrs. Elizabeth, educator, born near the famous old Donegal Presbyterian Church of Lancaster county. Pa., in 1842. She is the daughter of Rev. Thomas Marshall Boggs, of Washington, Pa , and Amelia Jane Cunningham Boggs, of New London, Pa. At the time of her birth, her father was a pastor, and continued pastor for fourteen years, up to the time of his death, of the Donegal Church, being also pastor of the Presbyterian Church in the neighboring town of Mount Joy, Pa. She was educated in the Mount Joy Seminary, Rev. Nehemiah Dodge, principal, and on 7th July, 1870, became the wife of Rev. John Edgar, who had been pastor of the Mount Joy Presbyterian Church, but who, at the time of his marriage, had occupied a pastorate in New Bloomfield, Pa. There Mr. and Mrs. Edgar remained thirteen years, having two sons born to them, James Marshall Edgar, in 1872, and John Boggs Edgar, in 1878. In 1883, Dr. and Mrs. Edgar removed to Chambersburg, Pa., having been appointed respectively to the positions of president and lady principal of Wilson College for women, under the care of the Presbyterian Church. The work of Mrs. Edgar in that college is highly successful.
# Woman of the Century/Elizabeth Cameron

​ELIZABETH CAMERON. CAMERON, Mrs. Elizabeth, editor, born in Niagara, Out., Can., 8th March, 1851. Her maiden name was Millar. Her early years were passed in Montreal and Kingston, and afterwards in London, Canada, where she became the wife, 30th September, 1869, of John Cameron, founder and conductor of the London "Ontario Advertiser." In that city she now resides. Educated in private and public schools, Mrs. Cameron has always been an insatiable, but discriminating, reader. Her acquaintance with general literature is large, and she has established several reading clubs for women. She is strongly interested in temperance work, is superintendent of the franchise department of the London Woman's Christian Temperance Union, and is wholly of the opinion that the monster intemperance will never be overthrown permanently till women are allowed to vote. She conducts, with the cooperation of Miss Agnes Ethelwyn Wetherald, a monthly paper, "Wives and Daughters," which has a large circulation in the United States as well as in Canada. As presiding genius of that journal, her mission has been and is to stimulate women to become, not only housekeepers in the highest sense, but to be better furnished mentally by systematic good reading, more intelligent as mothers, well informed concerning the chief wants of the day, and thoroughly equipped intellectually and spiritually for all the duties of womanhood.
# Woman of the Century/Elizabeth Cole

​COLE, Miss Elizabeth, author, born in Darien, Wis., 16th January, 1856. Her father's name
ELIZABETH COLE. was Parker M. Cole, and her mother's maiden name was Amelia Y. Frey. The latter was a descendant of the Freys and Herkimers whom Harold Frederic describes so accurately in " In the Valley." She was also a descendant of one of the early settlers of Detroit, named St. Martin, who was a man of note in those days, and whose house, built in 1703, still stands and is known as the "Old Cass House. All that concerns Amelia Cole is of interest to western people, because, like her daughter, Elizabeth, she was a well-known writer. Comtemporaneously their sketches and stories appeared in such periodicals as "Good Cheer," "Outing" and the "Current" Both were frequent contributors to the " Weekly Wisconsin. "Elizabeth Cole has also written acceptably for "SL Nicholas," "Good Housekeeping" and the " Housewife." She has done a great deal of excellent literary work, but her life has been exceedingly uneventful from the time she was born and brought up "in the edge of a little village, so small that the edge is very near the center." as she says, to the present time. Her mother died in 1889, and not long afterward she went to Pittsburgh, Pa., where she is at present living with a married sister. During her mother's lifetime the two made their home in Milwaukee. Their mutual gifts, their cheerful temperaments and the earnestness of their aims won for them many true friends in the best circles of that city.