OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 131/Issue 1690/Forgiveness

* FORGIVENESS.
* O God, forgive the years and years
* Of worldly pride and hopes and fears;
* Forgive, and blot them from thy book,
* The sins on which I mourn to look.
* Forgive the lack of service done
* For thee, thro' life, from life begun;
* Forgive the vain desires to be
* All else but that desired by thee.
* Forgive the love of human praise,
* The first false step in crooked ways,
* The choice of evil and the night,
* The heart close shut against the light.
* Forgive the love that could endure
* No cost to bless the sad and poor;
* Forgive, and give me grace to see
* The life laid down in love for me.
* Transcript.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 131/Issue 1689/A Farewell

* A FAREWELL.
* I put thy hand aside and turn away.
* Why should I blame the slight and fickle heart
* That cannot boldly go, nor bravely stay —
* Too weak to cling, and yet too fond to part!
* Dead passion chains thee where her ashes lie;
* Cold is the shrine — ah! cold for evermore;
* Why linger, then, while golden moments fly,
* And sunshine waits beyond the open door?
* Nay — fare thee well ; for memory and I
* Must tarry here and wait, . . . We have no choice,
* Nor other better joy until we die —
* Only to wait — and hear nor step, nor voice,
* Nor any happy advent come to break
* The watch We keep alone — for love's dear sake.
* Mary Anige de Vere.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1784

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXIII. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1784. — August 24, 1878. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXXVIII. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Englishwoman at School, | Quarterly Review, | 451 |
| II. | Macleod of Dare. By William Black. Part XIV., | Advance Sheets, | 467 |
| III. | Bishop Selwyn, | Church Quarterly Review, | 476 |
| IV. | Within the Precincts. By Mrs. Oliphant. Part XII., | Advance Sheets, | 492 |
| V. | Apples: a Comedy, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 502 |
| VI. | Wanted - a Religion, | Saturday Review, | 509 |
POETRY. :
| White Jasmine, | 450 | The Passing of the Cloud, | 450 |
| "Spring's Secrets", | 450 | |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 512 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1784/The Passing of the Cloud

* THE PASSING OF THE CLOUD.
* There came a cloud over yonder hill,
* When the wind was muttering low,
* Round and white as the sails, that fill
* When the winds o'er the ocean go.
* And the skirts of the cloud were snowy white,
* But the heart of the cloud was black;
* And the sunshine fled, and the trees in fright
* Murmured and bowed them back.
* And the cruel north wind whistled shrill,
* And the south wind sobbed in turn,
* And the east wind shrieked, "Come down and kill!"
* And the west wind sighed, "Return!"
* But the cloud gave heed to sob nor cry,
* But swept over bill and plain;
* The cloud went by in the broad blue sky,
* And the sunshine came again.
* Spectator.F. W. B.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1784/White Jasmine

* WHITE JASMINE.
* White jasmine stretches far and wide,
* Along the grey wall's southern side
* Its graceful branches wreathe;
* And winds of summer sweet and low,
* Among its verdure and its snow,
* Their tender music breathe.
* The garden beds that once were gay
* And fragrant all the summer day,
* Are empty and forlorn;
* The hungry bees afar have flown,
* The gravel walks are weed-o'ergrown,
* The trellis rose is torn.
* Within the house each empty room
* Is shut in silent, rayless gloom,
* With cheerless hearthstone cold;
* No pictures smile upon the wall,
* No single trace is left of all
* We cherished so of old.
* But in the southern sunshine bright,
* And by the jasmine, clad in white,
* A youthful maiden stands,
* With lips that speak of sad unrest;
* A hunch of daisies on her breast,
* And jasmine in her hands.
* With farewell looks of aching love,
* Her brown eyes wander round, above,
* It is a sacred spot;
* The home of childish grief and mirth,
* The home whence dearest dead went forth
* To share earths common lot.
* Ah, maiden! as the jasmine snow
* Doth vanish, so the years that go
* Will take this grief away;
* Will give thee older woes as sure,
* As strong, and deep if not so pure
* As this of thine to-day.
* Yet let the daisies on thy breast
* Teach thee that life's securest rest
* In humble paths doth lie;
* And let the jasmine in thine hand
* Whisper of fairer blossoms fanned
* By sweetest airs on high.
* Fear not to muse when far away,
* How summer sunshine gilds each day
* These lonely garden bowers;
* How sweetly yet the thrushes call,
* How climb about the gray old wall
* Thine own loved jasmine flowers.
* So may the memory of this home,
* Thy first and dearest, ever come
* With healing strength to thee;
* To mind thee, by its vanished grace,
* Of one prepared abiding-place,
* From sound of farewell free!
* All The Year Round.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1783/The Prayer of St. Chrysostom

* THE PRAYER OF ST. CHRYSOSTOM.
* BY ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF "CHILD WORLD."
* Almighty God, who gives us grace,
* With lifted heart and bended knee,
* In one accord of time and place
* To make our common prayer to thee,
* And promises to grant the prayer
* That lips and heart united frame,
* When two or three are kneeling there,
* Gather'd together in thy name,
* Fulfil, O God, their wishes now,
* Grant their petitions upward sent;
* But only in the way that thou
* Knowest to be expedient.
* Give us the knowledge of thy truth,
* As much as in this world may be;
* And in the next undying youth
* And everlasting life with thee.
* Good Words.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1784/"Spring's Secrets"

* "SPRING'S SECRETS."
* As once I paused on poet wing
* In the green heart of a grove,
* I met the spirit of the spring
* With her great eyes lit of love.
* She took me gently by the hand,
* And whispered in my anxious ear
* Secrets none may understand,
* Till she made their meaning clear:
* Why the primrose looks so pale;
* Why the rose is set with thorns;
* Why the magic nightingale
* Through the darkness mourns and mourns.
* She ceased: a leafy murmur sighed
* Softly through the listening trees.
* Anon she uttered, eager-eyed,
* These her joyful mysteries:
* How the angels, as they pass
* With their vesture pure and white
* O'er the shadowy garden grass,
* Touch the lilies into light:
* Or with hidden hands of love
* Guide the throstles wavering wings,
* But show theirfaces bright above,
* Only where the skylark sings.
* The author of "Songs of Killarney."
* Spectator.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1784/Miscellany

​Eskimo Dogs. — The horrible savagery of these poor wretches can hardly be wondered at; they live in a country where there is hardly a chance for them in any independent foraging expedition; they are half starved by their masters, being fed chiefly on frozen walrus hides in the winter, and allowed to shift for themselves in the summer when their services are not required, and are in so perennial and acute a state of hunger that they are ready at any time to eat their own harness if allowed to do so. It is generally stated that they are perfectly insensible to kindness, and only to be kept in order by a liberal application of the lash, or even of a more formidable weapon; for the Eskimo, if their dogs are refractory, do not scruple to beat them about the head with a hammer, or anything else of sufficient hardness which happens to be at hand. They will even beat the poor brutes in this horrible manner until they are actually stunned. Notwithstanding the absolute dependence of the Eskimo on their dogs, little or no care is taken of them; they receive nothing in any degree approaching petting, and spend all their time in the open air. The chief use of the Eskimo dog is to draw the sledges, which are the only possible conveyance in that frozen land. In all the Arctic expeditions which have been sent out at various times, a good supply of sledge dogs has been one of the greatest desiderata, as without them it would be absolutely impossible to proceed far. No other animal would answer the purpose, both horses and cattle being quite useless in journeys over ice and snow, amongst which the pack of light, active dogs make their way with wonderful ease and safety. Cassell's Natural History.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1785

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXIII. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1785. — August 31, 1878. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXXVIII. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Origin and Wanderings of the Gypsies, | Edinburgh Review, | 515 |
| II. | A Doubting Heart. By Miss Keary, author of "Castle Daly," "Oldbury," etc. Part VI., | Advance Sheets, | 530 |
| III. | Johnson Without Boswell, | Contemporary Review, | 541 |
| IV. | Prince Bismarck. By one of his Countrymen, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 553 |
| V. | Imaginary Portraits. By Walter H. Pater, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 566 |
| VI. | Our Young Masters, | Spectator, | 573 |
| VII. | Foreign Views of our Occupation of Cyprus, | Public Opinion, | 574 |
| VIII. | The Agricultural Products of Cyprus, | Economist, | 576 |
POETRY. :
| Born at Jerusalem, | 514 | To Phidyle, | 514 |
| Letty's Globe, | 514 | Outwards or Homewards, | 514 |
| Taken Away, | 514 | |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1785/Born at Jerusalem

* BORN AT JERUSALEM.
* (Gladys Mulock Holman Hunt, born Sept. 20, 1876.)
* English child of Eastern birth,
* Welcome to our wondrous earth;
* Welcome innocent blue eyes,
* Opening upon Syrian skies;
* Welcome, feet that soon will stand
* On Judea's sacred land;
* Bud from honorable stem,
* Babe born at Jerusalem.
* Were I of that faith of old
* Christians held 'gainst Paynims bold,
* I should say, the Virgin mild
* Specially on thee had smiled,
* That the Mother of all mothers
* Had loved thine beyond the others,
* Sending such a priceless gem
* To her, in Jerusalem.
* Or, if of still older creed,
* Ere the world of Christ had need,
* I should think of Rachel fair,
* Hannah, who child Samuel bare;
* Hebrew women, grand and calm,
* Whose pure lives roll like a psalm
* Down the centuries.
* Who like them, Mothers of Jerusalem?
* Little sweet god-daughter mine!
* Thy fair unknown face will shine
* Like the stars which shepherds see
* Still, o'er plains of Galilee;
* And thy unheard voice will fill
* Silence, like Siloam's rill,
* Where the hills in purple hem,
* Stand about Jerusalem.
* Babe, thy future who can see?
* But we bless thee, full and free.
* Walk, where walked Christ's stainless feet,
* In the Temple and the street:
* "Ploly, harmless, undefiled,"
* Yet to parents human child;
* Till thou walk with him — and them —
* In the New Jerusalem.
* the author of "John Halifax, Gentleman."
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1665/Spring is Coming

* SPRING IS COMING.
* By the bursting of the leaves,
* By the lengthening of the eves, —
* Spring is coming.
* By the flowers that scent the air,
* By the skies more blue and fair,
* By the singing everywhere, —
* Spring is coming.
* All the woods and fields rejoice, —
* Spring is coming.
* Only here and there a voice —
* Here of buds the worm has worn,
* Here of birds whose nest is torn;
* There of those whose life is pent
* Far from pleasant sight and scent —
* Wails, as if their life's distress
* Won a new, wild bitterness; —
* Spring is coming.
* F. W. B.
* Spectator.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1665/Any Poet to his Mistress

* ANY POET TO HIS MISTRESS.
* Immortal Verse! Is mine the strain
* To last and live? As ages wane
* Will one be found to twine the bays,
* And praise me then as now you praise?
* Will there be one to praise? Ah, no!
* My laurel leaf may never grow;
* My bust is in the quarry yet, —
* Oblivion weaves my coronet.
* Immortal for a month - a week!
* The garlands wither as I speak;
* The song will die, the harp's unstrung, —
* But, singing, have I vainly sung?
* You deign'd to lend an ear the while
* I trill'd my lay. I won your smile.
* Now, let it die, or let it live, —
* My verse was all I had to give.
* The linnet flies on wistful wings,
* And finds a bower, and lights and sings;
* Enough if my poor verse endures
* To light and live — to die in yours.
* Frederick Locker
* Cornhill Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1665/In Church

* IN CHURCH.
* We read the story olden
* In a purple light and golden,
* As beneath the western window we stood entranced, and gazed,
* While the pitying eyes of love
* Shone on us from above,
* In the sad, sweet face, upon the cross upraised.
* My quiv'ring eyelids glisten'd,
* As I silent stood, and listen'd,
* While your glad voice rose triumphant on the organ's outspread wings.
* Ah, my darling! far away
* Is that wondrous summer day,
* And the voice I love among the angels sings.
* Once more I read the story,
* In the brilliant western glory,
* And hope and peace breathe round me in this calm and sacred place.
* I will love thee while I wait,
* And within the golden gate,
* We shall meet where we indeed shall see His face.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1665/Miscellany

​A Machine for Darning Stockings. — We have had sewing and knitting machines for some time, but the latest addition to our stock is that of a darning-machine, which is described by the Scientific American as follows: — "Two small plates, one stationary and the other movable, are placed one above the other. The plates are corrugated, and between them the 'holy' portion of the stocking is laid. Twelve long-eyed pointed needles are arranged side by side in a frame, which last is carried forward so that the needles penetrate opposite edges of the hole, passing in the corrugations between the plates. Hinged just in front of the plates is an upright bar, and on this is a cross-piece carrying twelve knobs. The yarn is secured to an end-knob, and then, with a bit of flat wire, pushed through the needle-eyes. Then the loop between each two needles is caught by the hand and hooked over the opposite knob, so that each needle carries really two threads. Now the needles are carried back to their first position, and, in so doing, they draw the threads, which slip off the knobs through the edges of the fabric. A little push forward again brings the sharp rear edges of the needle-eye against the threads, cutting them all at once. This is repeated until the darn is finished, and beautifully finished it is. The cost of the machine is but ten dollars."
Climate of Southern Brazil. — Information as to the meteorology of South America is always precious, so that we are glad to see a paper on the above subject from Herr Beschoren in the Austrian Journal for February 15. The author gives a general account of the striking contrast between the climate of the upper country, the cima da serra, and that of the lowlands; but as his thermometers were soon broken he gives no observations. He notes a fall of five inches of snow at Passo P. Nuevo on June 13, a previously unheard-of amount in that locality. The tables are for three stations: Santa Cruz, Porto Allegro (30° 6m. S, lat.), and Pelotas (31° 47m. S. lat.).
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1665/Sailed To-Day

* SAILED TO-DAY.
* Sailed to-day:
* Faced the grey seas and white winter skies,
* None watching from the quay with straining eyes.
* Sailed to-day:
* Far in his distant home, sad faces bow
* And whisper, "Is his ship unanchored now?"
* Sailed to-day:
* A tearless mother muses on the morn
* They bade her cheer, because her boy was born.
* Sailed to-day:
* And those who loved him best urged on his flight.
* The bitter message reached him but last night.
* Sailed to-day:
* With laugh and boon companions left behind
* To mock him in the ghostly midnight wind.
* Sailed to-day:
* The day of loving patting is so sad,
* But we have learned to think such day is glad.
* Sailed to-day:
* We mourn with torture-tears that drop within,
* Whiten our hair, and wear our faces thin.
* Sailed to-day:
* O cold gray seas! O sullen winter skies!
* Will there be ever summer in our eyes?
* Sailed to-day:
* Well, ships go out, but they come back again —
* A day of joy completes long months of pain.
* Sailed to-day:
* And some ships go with lead and come with gold —
* Sad hearts have hopes too daring to be told.
* Sailed to-day:
* Shall we not always feel this biting cold?
* There is no summer when the heart is old.
* Sailed to-day!
* O God! who to the farthest deep goes down,
* Who knows the strangers in the foreign town,
* Out of our reach is still in reach of you,
* The God who cares for sparrows loves him who
* Sailed to-day!
* Isabella Fyvie Mayo
* Cassell's Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1664/The Old Mill

* THE OLD MILL.
* One hundred years the mill has stood:
* One hundred years the dashing flood
* Has turned the wheel with roaring sound,
* Through foaming waters, round and round.
* One hundred years: and overhead
* The same broad roof of blue is spread;
* And in the meadows, bright and green,
* The miller's children still are seen.
* And thus the world is still the same:
* The sunset clouds are turned to flame;
* And while we live, and when we die,
* The lark still carols in the sky.
* And others rise to fill our place;
* We sleep, and others run the race:
* And earth beneath and skies above
* Are still the same; and God is love.
* J. R. Eastwood.
* Cassell's Family Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1665

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XIV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1665. — May 6, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXIX. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | The Political Changes of Thirty Years, | Contemporary Review, | 323 |
| II. | The Dilemma. Conclusion, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 333 |
| III. | Madame de Maintenon. Part I., | Fortnightly Review, | 346 |
| IV. | What She Came Through. By Sarah Tytler, author of "Lady Bell," etc. Part IV., | Good Words, | 354 |
| V. | The Pessimist's View of Life, | Cornhill Magazine, | 363 |
| VI. | A Literary Friendship of the Fourteenth Century, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 372 |
| VII. | Lord Macaulay's Memory, | Spectator, | 381 |
POETRY. :
| Sailed To-Day, | 322 | Any Poet to his Mistress, | 322 |
| In Church, | 322 | Spring is Coming, | 322 |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 384 |
# Lustra/The Faun

The Faun
Ha! sir, I have seen you sniffing and snoozling about among my flowers. And what, pray, do you know about horticulture, you capriped?
"Come, Auster, come, Apeliota, And see the faun in our garden. But if you move or speak This thing will run at you And scare itself to spasms."
# Lustra/The Game of Chess

The Game of Chess
Dogmatic Statement Concerning the Game of Chess: Theme for a Series of Pictures
Red knights, brown bishops, bright queens, Striking the board, falling in strong "L"s of colour, Reaching and striking in angles, holding lines in one colour. This board is alive with light; these pieces are living in form, Their moves break and reform the pattern: Luminous green from the rooks, Clashing with "X"s of queens, looped with the knight-leaps.
"Y" pawns, cleaving, embanking! Whirl! Centripetal! Mate! King down in the vortex, Clash, leaping of bands, straight strips of hard colour, Blocked lights working in. Escapes. Renewal of contest.
# Lustra/The Gipsy

The Gipsy
That was the top of the walk, when he said: "Have you seen any others, any of our lot, "With apes or bears?" —A brown upstanding fellow Not like the half-castes, up on the wet road near Clermont. The wind came, and the rain, And mist clotted about the trees in the valley, And I'd the long ways behind me, gray Arles and Biaucaire, And he said, "Have you seen any of our lot?"
I'd seen a lot of his lot . . . ever since Rhodez, Coming down from the fair of St. John, With caravans, but never an ape or a bear.
# Lustra/The Coming of War: Actaeon

The Coming of War: Actaeon
An image of Lethe, and the fields Full of faint light but golden, Gray cliffs, and beneath them A sea Harsher than granite, unstill, never ceasing; High forms with the movement of gods, Perilous aspect; And one said: "This is Actaeon." Actaeon of golden greaves!
Over fair meadows, Over the cool face of that field, Unstill, ever moving, Hosts of an ancient people, The silent cortège.
# Lustra/The Condolence

The Condolence
A mis soledades voy, De mis soledades vengo, Porque por andar conmigo Mi bastan mis pensamientos.
Lope de Vega.
O my fellow sufferers, songs of my youth, A lot of asses praise you because you are "virile," We, you, I! We are "Red Bloods"! Imagine it, my fellow sufferers Our maleness lifts us out of the ruck, Who'd have foreseen it?
O my fellow sufferers, we went out under the trees, We were in especial bored with male stupidity. We went forth gathering delicate thoughts, Our "fantastikon" delighted to serve us. We were not exasperated with women, for the female is ductile.
And now you hear what is said to us: We are compared to that sort of person Who wanders about announcing his sex As if he had just discovered it. Let us leave this matter, my songs, and return to that which concerns us.
# Lustra/The Bellaires

The Bellaires
Aus meinen grossen Schmerzen Mach' ich die kleinen Lieder.
The good Bellaires Do not understand the conduct of this world's affairs. In fact they understood them so badly That they have had to cross the Channel.
Nine lawyers, four counsels, five judges and three proctors of the King, Together with the respective wives, husbands, sisters and heterogeneous connections of the good Bellaires, Met to discuss their affairs; But the good Bellaires have so little understood their affairs That now there is no one at all Who can understand any affair of theirs.Yet Fourteen hunters still eat in the stables of The good Squire Bellaire; But these may not suffer attainder,
For they may not belong to the good Squire Bellaire But to his wife. On the contrary, if they do not belong to his wife, He will plead A "freedom from attainder" For twelve horses and also for twelve boarhounds From Charles the Fourth; And a further freedom for the remainder Of horses, from Henry the Fourth. But the judges, Being free of medieval scholarship, Will pay no attention to this, And there will be only the more confusion, Replevin, estoppel, espavin and what not.
Nine lawyers, four counsels, etc., Met to discuss their affairs, But the sole result was bills From lawyers to whom no one was indebted, And even the lawyers Were uncertain who was supposed to be indebted to them.
Wherefore the good Squire Bellaire Resides now at Agde and Biaucaire. To Carcassonne, Pui, and Alais He fareth from day to day,
Or takes the sea air Between Marseilles And Beziers.
And for all this I have considerable regret, For the good Bellaires Are very charming people.
# Lustra/The Encounter

The Encounter
All the while they were talking the new morality Her eyes explored me. And when I arose to go Her fingers were like the tissue Of a Japanese paper napkin.
# Lustra/The Garden

The Garden
En robe de parade.
Samain.
Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anæmia.
And round about there is a rabble Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.
They shall inherit the earth.
In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. She would like someone to speak to her, And is almost afraid that I will commit that indiscretion.
# Lustra/The Garret

The Garret
Come let us pity those who are better off than we are. Come, my friend, and remember that the rich have butlers and no friends, And we have friends and no butlers. Come let us pity the married and the unmarried.
Dawn enters with little feet
like a gilded Pavlova, And I am near my desire. Nor has life in it aught better Than this hour of clear coolness, the hour of waking together.