OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Soul Of A Century/The green victor

THE GREEN VICTOR
(An Excerpt)
’Twas then it seems, that I began to weave A daring, never-ending dream of life. I felt so sweetly happy, yet so sad, It seemed that through a fog I visioned all, As in the fleeting moments, long ago While listening to father’s beating heart, And half in dream, I watched with keen intent The rising of the moon above the woods. My wondering eyes kept gazing high above Resting upon the blossoms on the tree, And higher, higher to the vaulting skies, My father once had likened to an oak. For from the birth of time it spreads above the earth Its endless, all-embracing leafy top Within whose branches nestles the golden bird Known as the ‘Sun’ by those who in the shade Of this eternal oak enjoy the fruits of life. Behold! Bright stars massed yonder in the sky, Words of surprise escaped my open lips When I beheld that rare, bewildering scene. Above my head a green star brightly shone; Twos fairer than it e’er seemed before, Glittered and then as quickly disappeared. I felt the star, an omen meant for me, Bowed low my head, and quietly returned. From that night onward I have sought to find
With longing eyes, that strangely shining star; But all in vain . . . When father led me far Along a silvery river’s winding bank Where in the midst of woods he built a home That I forget the castle we had left behind, On orders of our old ancestral Gods, ’Twas there again I sow my shining star When in the moment of my mother’s death I fell to depths of utter sheer despair, And when I called upon the Gods of Death To bring me solace and to comfort me, The Star’s green lustre seemed a sign to me, A note of greeting that my mother sent, And my weary, troubled heart found peace again.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/The road of life

THE ROAD OF LIFE (Graveyard Blossoms)
III.
Oh mother, better stay at home, I think I’ll find the way. Were we to part out in the street, What would the people say?
A little pack with left-overs, Half of a wasted brain; Some withered wreaths of bygone Springs; Half of a heart in pain. A Sunday shirt of snow-white cloth Woven of dreams of life; A shroud of thoughts for when I fall Exhausted with the strife.
Two shoes protrude from out the pack, Their soles are strong and tried, The hide for them came off the back Of my relentless pride.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/The land of Palestine

THE LAND OF PALESTINE
Within Caesarea’s proud castle tower King Herod sat, his head in palms reclining. The king, a weary wasted man whose life By many ills was being undermined.
Westwardly racing, sped the crimson sunset Into the waves that bear the blood red ring To the tower’s base . . . . The King just turned his head, For painful is this light to tired eyes, And he gazes across the stretching Plain of Sharon.
His gaze first fell upon Gerizim’s summit, And thence, like one infirm with age, it stole Across Sebastia, to Bethel, and Then further yet, to distant Antipatris. A few steps more it dragged and then stood still Steeped in the verdant sea. How near now seem Its waves! The tops of palms and olives, The crooked sycamores and tetrabinths with their naked Bark-free bodies, the pastures’ buoyant grasses All swelled and raised, all helter-skelter rushing Toward the bluish mountain-tops that eastward rise. Those golden islands bathing in this ocean, Fields rich with crops, around them endless fences Of mighty cactus, full of crimson blossoms As if besmeared with blood just freshly shed. And over all, a reddish light is playing Like a bloody dust . . . . . .
The King closed his weary eyes. And bloody rings begin to madly circle Before his tightly closed and tired pupils. Madly they dance while they upward slowly rise, And others come, revolve and disappear, The while the King would want to catch them all To entertain his eyes with their lithe dancing.
From out the sea a wind blows o’er the plain, The wind that breathes the plains’ perfumed breath, The King dilates his wasted trembling nostrils, To catch this scent . . . . The soul of grassy plains, The lillies’ sighs, the scented breath of Roses . . . Roses of Sharon, blessed by the priests In sacred chants of Lord of Sabaoth, Like love’s excitement is this breath of Roses, Roses of Sharon, glorified in Cantos, Sung in the evening by maidens around the fountain. The sweetened odor sinks into his bosom And wakes therein again an age-old pain; His Miriam, this proud and dusky maid unconquered, His Miriam, so mercilessly murdered, His dream, his lonesome soul’s eternal grief, For his Rose of Sharon yearns the grief-sick King.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Spring

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
SPRING
Peering through spectacles, a cane in one hand, I walk through the flowery dale; I plod slowly, solemnly, as if I failed to see The changes Spring brought to the vale.
Indeed! Everything is exactly the same As it was two score years ago . . . The twittering birds fill the skies with their songs, The trees are with blossoms aglow.
Again, little girls are prancing about, So are the boys with immature hips. The girls are singing this year’s newest songs That were written for older lips.
There is no advancement, no progress, no change, All moves in the same slow gear; I fear it is we, who grow older with time, Who get wiser from year to year.
I fear ’twill be thus to the end of the world, Forever, all over this earth; That Springtime will always its blossoms display And youth have its song and its mirth.
I pass by a group of girls and boys With whose chatter, I have weary grown, Peering through spectacles, a cane in one hand, My features as lifeless as stone.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Tales from our village

First 8 stanzas from the first poem Naše vesnice of the original collection Pohádky z naší vesnice.
TALES FROM OUR VILLAGE
My dear old Hamlet in the dreamy peaceful plain, When I, a weary wanderer, behold you in your place, I know you gleam to welcome me home again Like a smile that wreathes a mother’s wrinkled face.
I walk between your cottages and gaze; Where’er I look, part of my heart exclaims with glee. From every corner dash forth my bygone youthful days, My soul once more feels the force of youth set free.
All is so known . . . The herdsman with his flock Tips low his cap and in memories goes back; My friend, your storie’s unexhausted stock I see it in your eyes, still lives intact.
A grave digger goes by with song and spade To dig anew where an old grave stood alone. My friend, recall how often you I bade To tell who slept beneath each weathered stone.
A wagon passes through the waving field, I know each path, each meadow far and wide From whence the nightingale to heavens oft appealed And the quail cried out in unrestricted pride.
A fiddler passes . . . the man can barely see, I know each mood his ancient fiddle told. The brawls today are’nt what they used to be, And as for songs, you cannot beat the old.
A mother with her babe comes by, and pays no heed, A maid with eyes that speak of secret strife, Each face seems like an open book, I read, Inscribed therein, my entire former life.
When the bells ring of an evening from the belfry top Their tones as warm as dearly treasured friends, When their echoes keep repeating without pause or stop I hear therein, the beats that my heart sends.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/The anniversary

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
THE ANNIVERSARY
The familiar road I travelled on changed before my very eyes. Even the trees that grew before me out of the lifeless snow Seemed not the same! In the filtering greenish light smouldered the sunset. Like an extinct pyre of a dead, wasted day, now strangely saddened.
The horizon narrowed self with a drawn circle of steel. The night ripened. I saw black brotherhoods of forests kneeling to the ground, As if to pray for the dead . . . The pall of the heavens was lowered Above my head, as if pressed and weighted down by the dusk.
The stillness that smoked from afar, fell from above and weirdly glorious It deadened the steps . . . With whispers of awed respect quivered the voice of my soul, (Something languishly feeble filled the air as if its freshness were absorbed By the glowing thirst of burning tapers.)
It was a time like this, in the past when with mournful rapture I inhaled The prolonged dying of colors and lights and listened to the music Of approaching shadows . . . A mysterious meaning, spoke to me Through the nearness of the night and the sighing of eternal dreams.
Today an unknown fear swept hurriedly across my cheeks, and long forgotten years Again in my soul arose. How strange now appears my very breath, As if some one invisible walked with me at my side. And with a touch I knew, were to press my shaking hand.
O Holy One . . . This is the festive day in your garden of eternity. It is a requiem my thoughts are chanting as in a billowy choir. Mingling with the warm tears of the tapers, where crimson blood o’erflows The chalice of eternal light, upon your black draped altar . . . . .
The breath of cold death blew a curtain of shadow into my soul And the prayer of meditant solitude pityingly pressed my hand; For the black-draped flowing veil of my life’s memories, Was the downy couch, whereon forever was impressed the outline of your lifeless form . . . .
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/The brimming cup

THE BRIMMING CUP
I hold a cup within my palm, A foaming cup that overran; I hold a cup within my palm, That is waiting for the lips of man.
That is waiting if its wine O’er arid furrows will find its way, Or if on languid blooms elsewhere Its droplets it shall hang some day.
That’s waiting if the blooms will bow To earth beneath this burden sweet, Waiting if other worlds somehow Its scent will wake to glowing heat.
I hold a cup within my palm, That’s waiting for the lips of man, I hold a cup within my palm, I hold my heart, that overran.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Svatopluk Cech

SVATOPLUK CECH
(1846–1908)
Svatopluk Cech was born February 21, 1846 and died February 23rd, 1908. For a while after completing his studies of law, Cech worked in a law office but in the year 1879, together with his brother he founded an illustrated monthly, and this journalistic venture ended his legal career. His formal schooling Cech enhanced by extended travels to the Balkans, to England and Denmark and in 1895, following a sudden surge of popularity, the modest retiring author fled to Italy for a valuable sojourn. Svatopluk Cech may well be likened to Russia’s Pushkin, to Poland’s Mickiewicz or the French Lamartine, for his work embodies the prophetic undertones of these inspirational writers. Although a product of Kollar’s Slavonic Byronism, Cech quickly freed himself from its confining influence and developed an individual refreshing style in prose and verse as well. Among his best known poetic works are the Songs of a Slave, a masterfully concealed protest against the contemporary spiritual enslavement of his people, and a group of epic poems of historical significance.
* A morning prayer
* Dreams of Palestine
* My shadow
* Cup of youth
* Songs of a slave
# The War with Mexico/Volume 1/Contents

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I
| | | page |
| Maps and Plans in Volume I | Maps and Plans in Volume I | xvii |
| Conspectus of Events | Conspectus of Events | xix |
| Pronunciation of Spanish | Pronunciation of Spanish | xxi |
| chapter | chapter | |
| I. | Mexico and the Mexicans | 1 |
| II. | The Political Education of Mexico | 29 |
| III. | The Relations between the United States and Mexico, 1825-1843. | 58 |
| IV. | The Relations between the United States and Mexico, 1843 -1846. | 82 |
| V. | The Mexican Attitude on the Eve of War | 102 |
| VI. | The American Attitude on the Eve of War | 117 |
| VII. | The Preliminaries of the Conflict | 138 |
| VIII. | Palo Alto and Resaca de Guerrero | 156 |
| IX. | The United States Meets the Crisis | 181 |
| X. | The Chosen Leaders Advance | 204 |
| XI. | Taylor Sets out for Saltillo | 225 |
| XII. | Monterey | 239 |
| XIII. | Saltillo, Parras, and Tampico | 262 |
| XIV. | Santa Fe | 284 |
| XV. | Chihuahua | 298 |
| XVI. | The California Question | 315 |
| XVII. | The Conquest of California | 331 |
| XVIII. | The Genesis or Two Campaigns | 347 |
| XIX. | Santa Anna Prepares to Strike | 370 |
| XX. | Buena Vista | 384 |
| | Notes on volume I | 402 |
| | Appendix (Manuscript Sources) | 565 |
# The Singing Bone (Grimm)

* related portals: Brothers Grimm.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
English-language translations of Der singende Knochen include:
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 Singing Monkey

In the midst of the Indian Ocean they find a steamer, ‘richly laden—and every human being aboard is dead. Strange disappearances and garbled songs from unknown sources precede the death of their own watch in the stoke-hole. They must solve the mystery of this fear-ship or perish.
The Singing Monkey
A Complete Novelette by Charles Beadle Author of “Witch-Doctors,” “Captain Tristtam’s Miracle,” etc.
* Chapter I 3
* Chapter II 7
* Chapter III 9
* Chapter IV 12
* Chapter V 14
* Chapter VI 17
* Chapter VII 21
* Chapter VIII 23
* Chapter IX 26
* Chapter X 29
* Chapter XI 32
* Chapter XII 34
* Chapter XIII 36
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1944, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 79 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Statutes of Wales (1908)/Preface

PREFACE
The parliamentary enactments relating to Wales have not been, and are not now, easily accessible. There are very few libraries which contain a complete collection of the statutes at large. I have collected in this volume all the Acts of Parliament and parts thereof which refer to Wales, in order that they may be placed, for the first time, within the reach of those who are interested in the constitutional development and history of the Welsh nation. I commenced this somewhat laborious work many years ago, but professional duties delayed its completion. I have received much assistance from Mr. John Ballinger, the learned librarian of the Welsh Reference Library belonging to the City of Cardiff, and desire to acknowledge the many facilities granted to me by him for making use of that splendid collection.
I wish to thank my two learned friends, Mr. Charles Henry Glascodine and Mr. Harold S. Stowe, of the South Wales Circuit, and also Mr. John Henry Jermine, for their valuable aid in preparing this work for the press.
IVOR BOWEN.
Goldsmith Buildings, Temple. April 10, 1908.
# The Statutes of Wales (1908)

THE STATUTES OF WALES
Collected, Edited, and Arranged by
IVOR BOWEN
BARRISTER-AT-LAW, OF THE SOUTH WALES CIRCUIT
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
T. FISHER UNWIN
| LONDON ADELPHI TERRACE | LEIPSIC INSELSTRASSE 20 |
1908
CONTENTS
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1934, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 89 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Statutes of Wales (1908)/Front Matter

THE STATUTES OF WALES
| Fourth Edition. | With Two Maps. |
THE WELSH PEOPLE.
CHAPTERS ON THEIR
Origin, History, Laws, Language, Literature.
BY
Sir JOHN RHYS, M.A., D.Litt.
Principal of Jesus College, and Professor of Celtic in the University of Oxford.
AND Sir D. BRYNMOR-JONES, LL.B.,
Bencher of the Hon. Society of the Middle Temple, King's Counsel and Member of Parliament.
"Altogether, whether looked at from the point of view of the student of antiquities, ethnology, and folk-lore, or from that of the modern politician or the student of national characteristics, we have seldom met with a more informing and valuable work.
(All rights reserved.)
# The Three Cutters
## Contents

* Chapter I: Cutter the First
* Chapter II: Cutter the Second
* Chapter III: Cutter the Third
* Chapter IV: Portland Bill
* Chapter V: The Travesty
* Chapter VI: The Smuggling Yacht
* Chapter VII: Conclusion
This text was provided by Athelstane E-Books
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 Story of Nell Gwyn

THE
STORY OF NELL GWYN:
AND THE
SAYINGS OF CHARLES THE SECOND.
RELATED AND COLLECTED
By PETER CUNNINGHAM, F. S. A.
Nell Gwyn's Son—the first Duke of St. Alban's.
LONDON:
BRADBURY & EVANS, 11, BOUVERIE STREET.
MDCCCLII.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The following story was originally published in "The Gentleman's Magazine," for the year 1851, and now appears as a separate publication for the first time: corrected throughout and enlarged with such new matter as my own diligence, and the kindness of friends, has enabled me to bring together. It must be read as a serious truth, not as a fiction—as a biography, not as a romance. It has no other foundation than truth, and will be heard of hereafter only as it adheres to history.
Peter Cunningham.
CONTENTS.
​ CHARLES II., NELL GWYN, AND EVELYN. (Scene—St. James's Park.) From a painting by E. M. Ward, A.R.A.
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 Times/1918/Obituary/J. D. FitzGerald

* related portals: Obituaries.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Obituary: The Times, Monday, May 13, 1918; Issue 41788; pg. 10—Death Of Mr. J. D. Fitzgerald, K.C.
Layout 2
Death of Mr. J. D. Fitzgerald, K.C.
The Hon. J. D. FitzGerald, K.C., who died on Saturday in a nursing home in London after an operation was, until his recent retirement, a leading member of the Parliamentary Bar. Second son of the late Lord FitzGerald, and born in 1848, he went to Oscott, to University College, London, and to Christ's College, Cambridge, where he tool a First Class in Law Tripos, and was Secretary of the Union. He was called by the Inner Temple in 1872, took silk in 1890, and was elected a bencher of his Inn in 1906. He married, in 1881, Emma Ysolda, second daughter of Sir Thomas Barrett Lennard, second baronet, who survives him. Captain Gerald T. FitzGerald, barrister, the elder son, has fallen in the war, Captain Maurice Pembroke FitzGerald, R.F.A., a barrister of the Inner Temple, is now serving abroad. There were also four daughters of the marriage.
At Cambridge, Mr. FitzGerald was one of the editors of Momus and in later years he contributed to the Dictionary of National Biography. He took an important part legally in the acquisition of the undertakings of the London water companies for the Metropolitan Water Boards, and his advice saved the public a very large amount in one of the compensation claims. He also took a prominent part in the formation of the Port of London Authority, and appeared regularly for the London County Council and often for the Board of Trade. He retired from the Bar two years or more ago to devote his time to the Trading with the Enemy Advisory Committee, of which he was a member. Mr. FitzGerald, who was a member of Brooks's, the Reform, and the Athenæum clubs, was a sound lawyer, and a practised arbitrator, beside being a great Parliamentary advocate.
This work was published in 1918 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 105 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Times/1918/Obituary/James Sutherland Cotton

Source: The Times, Thursday, Jul 11, 1918; Issue 41839; pg. 9
Mr. J. S. Cotton
We regret to announce the death of Mr. James Sutherland Cotton, formerly editor of the "Academy" and the writer and compiler of various valuable books and publications on Indian life and history, which occurred yesterday at Salisbury.
He was born on July 17, 1847, at Cooner, Madras, , the third son of Joseph John Cotton, of the Madras Civil Service, his mother being a daughter of James Minchin, Master in Equity of the Supreme Court at Madras. The late Sir Henry Cotton was his brother. After being at school successively at Magdalen College School and Brighton College, he went to Winchester, in 1860, and became a colleger there in the following year and in 1867, he was elected a scholar of Trinity College, Oxford, where he graduated in 1870, after a first-class in Classical Moderations and a first in 'Literæ Humaniores'. From 1871 to 1874 he was a Fellow and Lecturer of Queen's College. Among his Oxford friends and contemporaries were E. W. B. Nicholson, Bodley's Librarian, F. T. Richards, first of Queen's and afterwards of Trinity, and Grant Allen of Merton, and he was in pronounced sympathy with the rather uncompromising views of that academic and philosophic Liberalism which had set in strongly years before.
In 1874 he was called to the Bar of Lincoln's Inn, and in 1881 he began the work for which he was well suited — namely, the editing of the "Academy" then a critical journal of high repute, which under his able guidance became famous for it signed reviews and scholarly criticism. From a worldly point of view it was, perhaps, a little too scholarly, and after 15 years of editorship, Cotton left it to other hands.
For many years he was the principal assistant of the late Sir William Hunter in his manifold literary undertakings in exposition of Indian life and history. He helped Hunter to compile the first general Gazetteer of India, published in nine volumes in 1881, and to revise and expand it in a second edition of 14 volumes in 1885-87. His chief work in the last few years was the cataloguing of the European MSS. relating to India in the India Office Library. The ample material he had collated remains to be put in final form for publication. He had remarkable tenacity of memory for exact details, and a striking facility for the coordination of his material.
Mr Cotton married in 1873, Isabella, daughter of Mr. John Carter, of Clifton, Bristol, who survives him.
This work was published in 1918 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 105 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse