OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Adams, William Henry Davenport

​ADAMS, WILLIAM HENRY DAVENPORT (1828–1891), miscellaneous writer, born in London on 5 May 1828, grandson of Captain Adams, R.N. (d. 1806), was the only son of Samuel Adams (b. Ashburton, in Devonshire, 1798, d. 1853), who married in 1827 Elizabeth Mary Snell. He was christened William Henry, and assumed the additional name of Davenport by the desire of his great-uncle. Major Davenport. He was educated privately, under George Dawson, and became an omnivorous reader. After some experience as a teacher of special subjects in private families, he began a life of unceasing literary toil by editing a provincial newspaper in the Isle of Wight, and while still young established a connection with the London press through such journals as the 'Literary Gazette,' the 'London Journal,' and 'London Society.' He made some reputation in turn as a writer of popular science, a writer for boys, a translator, and a lexicographer. He supervised a new edition of Mackenzie's 'National Cyclopedia,' and did a large amount of reading and writing for Messrs. Black (for whom he wrote 'Guides' to Kent and Surrey), for Blackie & Son of Glasgow, and Nelson & Sons, Edinburgh. In 1870 he founded the 'Scottish Guardian,' which he edited down to 1878, and subsequently he projected and edited a series of volumes called 'The Whitefriars Library of Wit and Humour.' He died at Wimbledon on 30 Dec. 1891, and was buried at Kensal Green. He married in 1850 Sarah Esther Morgan, a Welsh lady, by whom he left two sons and two daughters, his eldest son, W. Davenport Adams, being the author ​of the 'Dictionary of English Literature' (1878).
Adams's voluminous compilations, numbering nearly 140 in all, include a number of useful translations from the French of L. Figuier, J. C. F. Hoefer, A. Mangin, Jules Michelet, and B. H. Revoil. His best work is contained in the following:
* 'History, Topography, and Antiquities of the Isle of Wight,' 1856 and 1884.
* 'Memorable Battles in English History,' 1862, 1868, and 1878.
* 'Famous Regiments,' 1864.
* 'Famous Ships of the British Navy,' 1868.
* 'Lighthouses and Lightships,' 1870, 1876.
* 'The Arctic World: its Plants, Animals, and Natural Phenomena,' 1876.
* 'The Bird World,' 1877.
* 'English Party Leaders,' 2 vols. 1878.
* 'The Merry Monarch,' 1885.
* 'England on the Sea,' 2 vols. 1885.
* 'England at War,' 2 vols. 1886.
* 'Good Queen Anne,' 1886.
* 'A Concordance to the Plays of Shakespeare,' 1886.
* 'Witch, Warlock, and Magician,' 1889.
He also edited a single-volume annotated edition of Shakespeare's 'Plays.'
[Times, 31 Dec. 1891; Ann. Keg. 1891; Halkett and Laing's Dict. of Anon. and Pseudon. Lit. pp. 609, 1689, 2460, 2530, 2682, 2829; Biograph, September 1879; private information.]
T. S.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Adair, James

​ADAIR, JAMES (fl. 1775), historian of the American Indians, was probably an offshoot of the Adair family of Kinhilt, Wigtownshire. He went out to America in 1735, and spent the following forty years of ​his life as a trader among the Indians of Georgia and the two Carolinas. He was a close and sympathetic observer of Indian life and customs, and in 1775, stimulated by the encouragement of a few intimate friends, such as Sir William Johnson, bart., Colonel George Craghan, George Galphin, and Lachlan M'Gilwray, he determined to throw his notes into the form of a book. He mentions a string of disadvantages under which he laboured, notably the jealousy, secrecy, and closeness of the Indians, but hoped to be able to correct the very superficial notions that prevailed as to their civilisation. His book was called 'The History of the American Indians … containing an Account of their Origin, Language, Manners, … and other Particulars, sufficient to render it A Complete Indian System … with A New Map of the Country ' (London, 4to).
The value of Adair's work as showing the relations between the Indians and the English traders was recognised, and a German translation appeared at Breslau in 1782. It must be admitted that a very disproportionate space is given to the hypothesis that the American Indians are descended from the lost ten tribes of Israel. Thomas Thorowgood, adopting an old idea of the Spanish Las Casas, had first maintained this theory in English in 1650 in his 'Jewes in America.' Both Roger Williams and Jonathan Edwards seemed rather inclined to favour the view, which, as elaborately set forth by Adair, has since found champions in Elias Boudinot ('Star in the West,' 1816) and in Edward King, viscount Kingsborough [q. v.] Among the points of similarity between the Jews and Indians, Adair emphasised the division into tribes, worship of a great spirit, Jehovah, notions of a theocracy, of ablutions and uncleanness, cities of refuge, and practices as regards divorce and raising seed to a deceased brother. The bias imparted by this theory to many of Adair's remarks led Volney to condemn the whole book unjustly in his 'Tableau du Climat et du Sol des Etats-Unis' (p. 433). The second half of the book is more strictly 'An Account of the Katahba, Cheerake, Muskohge, Choktah, and Chikkasah Nations.' Lord Kingsborough reprinted the whole of the first part of Adair's work in the eighth volume of his sumptuous ' Mexican Antiquities' (1830 fol.), with an appendix of notes and illustrations from inedited works by French and Spanish authors, 'affording the most satisfactory proofs of Adair's veracity in the minutest particulars.' Adair's map of the American Indian nations is partially reproduced in Winsor's 'History of America' (vii. 448).
[Adair's History, 1775; Lord Kingsborough's Mexican Antiquities, vols. vi. and viii.; Winsor's Hist. of America, i. 116, 320, 398, 424, v. 68; Field's Indian Bibliography; Bancroft's Native Races, v. 91 (epitomising Adair's views); Allibone's Dict. of English Literature; Biogr. Dict. of S.D.U.K. 1842, i. 267.]
T. S.
# Treaty of Amsterdam/Article 5

Source: http://eur-lex.europa.eu/en/treaties/dat/11997D/htm/11997D.html
The Act concerning the election of the representatives of the European Parliament by direct universal suffrage annexed to the Council Decision of 20 September 1976 shall be amended in accordance with the provisions of this Article.
1. In Article 2, the following paragraph shall be added:
‘In the event of amendments to this Article, the number of representatives elected in each Member State must ensure appropriate representation of the peoples of the States brought together in the Community.’.
2. In Article 6(1), the following indent shall be inserted after the fifth indent:
‘- member of the Committee of the Regions,’.
3. Article 7(2) shall be replaced by the following:
‘2. Pending the entry into force of a uniform electoral procedure or a procedure based on common principles and subject to the other provisions of this Act, the electoral procedure shall be governed in each Member State by its national provisions.’
4. Article 11 shall be replaced by the following:
‘Pending the entry into force of the uniform electoral procedure or the procedure based on common principles referred to in Article 7, the European Parliament shall verify the credentials of representatives. For this purpose it shall take note of the results declared officially by the Member States and shall rule on any disputes which may arise out of the provisions of this Act other than those arising out of the national provisions to which the Act refers.’
5. Article 12(1) shall be replaced by the following:
‘1. Pending the entry into force of the uniform electoral procedure or the procedure based on common principles referred to in Article 7 and subject to the other provisions of this Act, each Member State shall lay down appropriate procedures for filling any seat which falls vacant during the five-year term of office referred to in Article 3 for the remainder of that period.’
# The year's at the spring/Graves, Robert

Star-Talk
ARE you awake, Gemelli, This frosty night?" "We'll be awake till reveillé, Which is Sunrise," say the Gemelli, "It's no good trying to go to sleep: If there's wine to be got we'll drink it deep, But rest is hopeless to-night, But rest is hopeless to-night."
"Are you cold too, poor Pleiads, This frosty night?" "Yes, and so are the Hyads: See us cuddle and hug," say the Pleiads, "All six in a ring: it keeps us warm: We huddle together like birds in a storm: It's bitter weather to-night, It's bitter weather to-night."
"What do you hunt, Orion, This starry night?" "The Ram, the Bull and the Lion, And the Great Bear," says Orion, ​"With my starry quiver and beautiful belt I am trying to find a good thick pelt To warm my shoulders to-night, To warm my shoulders to-night."
"Did you hear that, Great She-bear, This frosty night?" "Yes, he's talking of stripping me bare, Of my own big fur," says the She-bear. "I'm afraid of the man and his terrible arrow: The thought of it chills my bones to the marrow, And the frost so cruel to-night! And the frost so cruel to-night!"
"How is your trade, Aquarius, This frosty night?" "Complaints is many and various, And my feet are cold," says Aquarius, "There's Venus objects to Dolphin-scales, And Mars to Crab-spawn found in my pails, And the pump has frozen to-night, And the pump has frozen to-night."
ROBERT GRAVES
# The year's at the spring/Hodgson, Ralph

The Bells of Heaven
'TWOULD ring the bells of Heaven The wildest peal for years, If Parson lost his senses And people came to theirs, And he and they together Knelt down with angry prayers For tamed and shabby tigers And dancing dogs and bears, And wretched, blind pit ponies, And little hunted hares.
RALPH HODGSON
The Song of Honour
I CLIMBED a hill as light fell short, And rooks came home in scramble sort, And filled the trees and flapped and fought And sang themselves to sleep; An owl from nowhere with no sound Swung by and soon was nowhere found, I heard him calling half-way round, Holloing loud and deep; A pair of stars, faint pins of light, Then many a star, sailed into sight, And all the stars, the flower of night, Were round me at a leap; To tell how still the valleys lay I heard a watch-dog miles away, And bells of distant sheep.
I heard no more of bird or bell, The mastiff in a slumber fell, I stared into the sky, As wondering men have always done Since beauty and the stars were one, Though none so hard as I. ​It seemed, so still the valleys were, As if the whole world knelt at prayer, Save me and me alone; So pure and wide that silence was I feared to bend a blade of grass, And there I stood like stone. [Continued] RALPH HODGSON
Stupidity Street
I SAW with open eyes Singing birds sweet Sold in the shops For the people to eat, Sold in the shops of Stupidity Street.
I saw in vision The worm in the wheat, And in the shops nothing For people to eat; Nothing for sale in Stupidity Street.
RALPH HODGSON
# The year's at the spring/Johnson, Lionel

By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross
Great glooms, and starry plains. Gently the night wind sighs; Else a vast silence reigns.
The splendid silence clings Around me: and around The saddest of all kings Crowned, and again discrowned.
Comely and calm, he rides Hard by his own Whitehall: Only the night wind glides: No crowds, nor rebels, brawl.
Gone, too, his Court; and yet, The stars his courtiers are: Stars in their stations set; And every wandering star.
​Alone he rides, alone, The fair and fatal king: Dark night is all his own, That strange and solemn thing.
Which are more full of fate: The stars; or those sad eyes? Which are more still and great: Those brows; or the dark skies?
Although his whole heart yearn In passionate tragedy: Never was face so stern With sweet austerity.
Vanquished in life, his death By beauty made amends: The passing of his breath Won his defeated ends.
Brief life and hapless? Nay: Through death, life grew sublime. Speak after sentence? Yea: And to the end of time.
Armoured he rides, his head Bare to the stars of doom: ​He triumphs now, the dead, Beholding London's gloom.
Our wearier spirit faints, Vexed in the world's employ: His soul was of the saints; And art to him was joy.
King, tried in fires of woe! Men hunger for thy grace: And through the night I go, Loving thy mournful face.
Yet when the city sleeps; When all the cries are still: The stars and heavenly deeps Work out a perfect will.
LIONEL JOHNSON
# The year's at the spring/Meynell, Alice

A Dead Harvest
IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
ALONG the graceless grass of town They rake the rows of red and brown,— Dead leaves, unlike the rows of hay Delicate, touched with gold and grey, Raked long ago and far away.
A narrow silence in the park, Between the lights a narrow dark. One street rolls on the north; and one, Muffled, upon the south doth run; Amid the mist the work is done.
A futile crop! for it the fire Smoulders, and, for a stack, a pyre. So go the town's lives on the breeze, Even as the sheddings of the trees; Bosom nor barn is filled with these.
ALICE MEYNELL
November Blue
The golden tint of the electric lights seems to give a complementary colour to the air in the early evening.
Essay on London
O HEAVENLY colour, London town Has blurred it from her skies; And, hooded in an earthly brown, Unheaven'd the city lies. No longer standard-like this hue Above the broad road flies; Nor does the narrow street the blue Wear, slender pennon-wise.
But when the gold and silver lamps Colour the London dew, And, misted by the winter damps, The shops shine bright anew— Blue comes to earth, it walks the street, It dyes the wide air through; A mimic sky about their feet, The throng go crowned with blue.
ALICE MEYNELL
The Shepherdess
SHE walks—the lady of my delight— A shepherdess of sheep. Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white; She guards them from the steep; She feeds them on the fragrant height, And folds them in for sleep.
She roams maternal hills and bright, Dark valleys safe and deep. Into that tender breast at night The chastest stars may peep. She walks—the lady of my delight— A shepherdess of sheep.
She holds her little thoughts in sight, Though gay they run and leap. She is so circumspect and right; She has her soul to keep. She walks—the lady of my delight— A shepherdess of sheep.
ALICE MEYNELL
# The year's at the spring/Hardy, Thomas

The Oxen
CHRISTMAS EVE, and twelve of the clock. "Now they are all on their knees," An elder said as we sat in a flock By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek mild creatures where They dwelt in their strawy pen, Nor did it occur to one of us there To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few believe In these years! Yet, I feel, If someone said on Christmas Eve "Come; see the oxen kneel
In the lonely barton by yonder coomb Our childhood used to know," I should go with him in the gloom, Hoping it might be so.
THOMAS HARDY
# The year's at the spring/Masefield, John

Sea Fever
I MUST go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gipsy life, ​To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
JOHN MASEFIELD
Tewkesbury Road
IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where, Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither nor why; Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air, Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.
And to halt at the chattering brook, in the tall green fern at the brink Where the harebell grows, and the gorse, and the foxgloves purple and white; Where the shy-eyed delicate deer come down in a troop to drink When the stars are mellow and large at the coming on of the night.
O, to feel the beat of the rain, and the homely smell of the earth, ​Is a tune for the blood to jig to, a joy past power of words; And the blessed green comely meadows are all a-ripple with mirth At the noise of the lambs at play and the dear wild cry of the birds.
JOHN MASEFIELD
The West Wind
IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.
It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine, Apple orchards blossom there, and the air's like wine. There is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest, And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.
"Will you not come home, brother? You have been long away. It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray: And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?
​The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run; It's blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun. It's song to a man's soul, brother, fire to a man's brain, To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.
Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat, So will you not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet? I've a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes," Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.
It's the white road westwards is the road I must tread To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head, To the violets and the brown brooks and the thrushes' song In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.
JOHN MASEFIELD
# The year's at the spring/Grenfell, Julian

Into Battle
THE naked earth is warm with Spring, And with green grass and bursting trees Leans to the sun's gaze glorying, And quivers in the sunny breeze; And Life is Colour and Warmth and Light, And a striving evermore for these; And he is dead who will not fight; And who dies fighting has increase.
The fighting man shall from the sun Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth; Speed with the light-foot winds to run, And with the trees to newer birth; And find, when fighting shall be done, Great rest, and fullness after dearth.
All the bright company of Heaven Hold him in their high comradeship, The Dog-star and the Sisters Seven, Orion's Belt and sworded hip.
​The woodland trees that stand together, They stand to him each one a friend, They gently speak in the windy weather; They guide to valley and ridges' end.
The kestrel hovering by day, And the little owls that call by night, Bid him be swift and keen as they, As keen of ear, as swift of sight.
The blackbird sings to him, "Brother, brother, If this be the last song you shall sing Sing well, for you may not sing another; Brother, sing."
In dreary, doubtful, waiting hours, Before the brazen frenzy starts, The horses show him nobler powers; O patient eyes, courageous hearts!
And when the burning moment breaks, And all things else are out of mind, And only Joy of Battle takes Him by the throat, and makes him blind—
​Though joy and blindness he shall know, Not caring much to know, that still, Nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so That it be not the Destined Will.
The thundering line of battle stands, And in the air Death moans and sings; But Day shall clasp him with strong hands, And Night shall fold him in soft wings.
JULIAN GRENFELL
# The year's at the spring/Hooley, Teresa

Sea-Foam
A FLECK of foam on the shining sand, Left by the ebbing sea, But richer than man may understand In magic and mystery— Transient bubbles rainbow-bright, Myriad-hued and strange, Tremble and throb in the noonday light, Flower and flush and change.
A million tides have come and gone, Great gales of autumn and spring, A million summoning moons have shone To bring to birth this thing— A foam-fleck left on the ribbed wet sand By the wave of an outgoing sea, With all the colour of Faeryland, Wonder and mystery.
TERESA HOOLEY
# The year's at the spring/Mackenzie, Margaret

To the Coming Spring
O PUNCTUAL Spring! We had forgotten in this winter town The days of Summer and the long, long eves. But now you come on airy wing, With busy fingers spilling baby-leaves On all the bushes, and a faint green down On ancient trees, and everywhere Your warm breath soft with kisses Stirs the wintry air, And waking us to unimagined blisses. Your lightest footprints in the grass Are marked by painted crocus-flowers And heavy-headed daffodils, While little trees blush faintly as you pass. The morning and the night You bathe with heavenly showers, And scatter scentless violets on the rounded hills, Drop beneath leafless woods pale primrose posies. With magic key, in the new evening light, You are unlocking buds that keep the roses; ​The purple lilac soon will blow above the wall And bended boughs in orchards whitely bloom— We had forgotten in the Winter's gloom... Soon we shall hear the cuckoo call!
MARGARET MACKENZIE
# The year's at the spring/McLeod, Irene R

Lone Dog
I'M a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog, and lone; I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own; I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep; I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep.
I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet, A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat, Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate, But shut door, and sharp stone, and cuff, and kick, and hate.
Not for me the other dogs, running by my side, Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide. O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best, Wide wind, and wild stars, and the hunger of the quest!
IRENE R. McLEOD
# Trusty as the stars

Trusty as the stars Who quit their shining working Prompt as when I lit them In Genesis' new house, Durable as dawn Whose antiquated blossom Makes a world's suspense Perish and rejoice.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/King, William (1786-1865)

​KING, WILLIAM (1786–1865), promoter of co-operation, born at Ipswich on 17 April 1786, was the son of the Rev. John King, many years master of the Ipswich grammar school. He was educated at Peterhouse, Cambridge, of which he became a fellow. He graduated B.A. in 1809 (as twelfth wrangler), M.A. in 1812, licensed by the university 11 June 1817, and commenced M.D. at Cambridge in 1819. He became a fellow of the Royal College of Physicians in 1820, and delivered the Harveian oration in 1843. He was for a time private tutor of Lord Overstone, who highly esteemed him. In 1823 he settled at Brighton, and became known as a writer on co-operation and social questions. King, who was remarkable for his conversational power, obtained the confidence of Lady Byron. He was her adviser in schemes for improving the condition of the poor upon her estates, and she actively promoted the co-operative system, of which he was a remarkable advocate. From May 1828 to July 1830 he wrote a small monthly periodical, entitled ‘The Co-operator,’ the first which bore that name. No such publication before or since has excelled it in simplicity, persuasiveness, or in grasp of the ethical and economical principles to which the name of ‘co-operation’ was first given. Though each number consisted but of four pages, published at 1d., and issued anonymously, it was the most influential publication of the kind at that time. Lady Byron left 300l. with a view to publishing a selection of King's writings. This has not yet been adequately done.
King died at Brighton on 20 Oct. 1865. He was consulting physician to the Sussex County Hospital (1842–1861), and first president of the Brighton ‘Medical Chirurgical Society.’ Besides the ‘Co-operator,’ he wrote: ‘The Institutions of De Fellenberg,’ 1842; ‘Medical Essays,’ 1850; ‘Address to the Provincial Medical Surgical Society,’ 1851; an ‘Essay on Scrofula,’ in the ‘Medical Gazette;’ and (posthumous) ‘Thoughts on the Teaching of Christ,’ 1872.
[Munk's Coll. of Phys. iii. 226; Gent. Mag. 1865, ii. 797; personal knowledge.]
G. J. H.