OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poor man's looking glass/Love is the Occasion of my Overthrow

Love is the Occaſion of my Overthrow.
AS I was a walking for my recreation, down by a ſilent ſhady grove, I heard a damſel make ſad lamentation, crying alas! I have loſt my love: For he was always conſtant and loyal, and unto me great kindneſs did ſhow, My parents gave him a plain denial, love was the occaſion of my overthrow.
O unkind parents, hard hearted and cruel, you could not do me greater ſpite? Thus to bereave me of my dear jewel, in whom I plac'd my heart's delight: Was it becauſe that I am an heireſs, and his parents mean and low; And if it be, then the greater my care is, love was the occaſion of my overthrow.
Some they will marry for gold and ſilver, and many ſuch for wealth likewiſe, But I will not marry for gold nor ſilver, which melts like ſnow when the fun doth riſe: True love alone, will undo me for ever, like to the ſpring, from the fountain does flow, Since I have loſt my deareſt for ever, love was the occaſion of my overthrow.
Love is like an unquenchable fire, like to a violent fever that burn, Here in the grove I mean to retire, home to my parents I ne'er will return. Farewel father, and farewel mother, farewel friend, and farewel foe, You are to blame above all other, love was the cauſe of my overthrow.
​You pretty damſels that round me are lying, now I am taking my laſt farewel: You pretty birds that round me are flying, let your ſweet notes ring my paſſing bell. For I'm a damſel that's quite broken hearted, afflicted with ſorrow grief and woe, Then with a ſorrowful ſigh ſhe departed, love is the occaſion of my overthrow.
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
# Pop Goes the Weasel

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Pop Goes the Weasel."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "Pop Goes the Weasel" (All around the cobbler's bench), popular nursery song
* "Pop Goes the Weasel" (Some time ago the people said), anonymous song
* "Pop Goes the Weasel" (Now all the girls are going mad), song by F. C. Perry
# Poor man's looking glass/The Young Man's Declaration

The Young MAN'S DECLARATION,
ALL you jolly lovers, I pray you attend, Unto theſe few verses which here I have penn'd; Of a hard hearted miſtreſs, who ſtill bids me go, But what's that to any man whither or no! Of a hard hearted miſtreſs, who ſtill bids me go: Scadation, dandation ſhe valin ſhivo.
She's conquer'd my heart, and ſhe's gain'd my eſteem, But ſhe rallies me ſtill as I were in a dream: Yet her ſmiles does engage me, her frowns bids me go, But what's that to any man, &c.
She's tall, as the cedar, ſhe's mild as the dove, She's every way neat, juſt as one made for love; Yet ſhe has a cold heart, and that I do know! But what's that to any man, &c.
Her forehead's like iv'ry: eyes like drops of dew, With cheeks like the cherries, ſo pleaſant to view; Her neck is as white as the new fallen ſnow! But what's that to any man, &c.
​She ſmiles like a Venus, like a Siren ſhe kills, My poor ſoul with torment, her cruelty fills; For me ſhe deſpiſes, my folly mak'ſt ſo: But what's that to any man, &c.
But my heart ſhall not break for no woman alive, I'll meet with ſome kind one who will me revive, And let that proud ſtubborn ſtand, for what I know: But what's that to any man &c
So if I do live, and from troubles keep free, I'll think lighter of her, than ſhe now does of me, So let me be roving, to another I'll go And what's that to any man, whether or no? So let me be roving, to another I'll go, Scadarion, dandation, ſhe valin ſhivo.
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
# Poor sinners! little do they think

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
BELSHAZZAR by John Newton
    Poor sinners! little do they think
    With whom they have to do!
    But stand securely on the brink
    Of everlasting woe.
    Belshazzar thus, profanely bold,
    The Lord of hosts defied;
    But vengeance soon his boasts controlled,
    And humbled all his pride.
    He saw a hand upon the wall
    (And trembled on his throne)
    Which wrote his sudden dreadful fall
    In characters unknown.
    Why should he tremble at the view
    Of what he could not read?
    Foreboding conscience quickly knew
    His ruin was decreed.
    See him o'erwhelmed with deep distress!
    His eyes with anguish roll;
    His looks, and loosened joints, express
    The terrors of his soul.
    His pomp and music, guests and wine,
    No more delight afford;
    O sinner, ere this case be thine,
    Begin to seek the LORD.
    The law like this hand-writing stands,
    And speaks the wrath of God;
    But JESUS answers its demands,
    And cancels it with blood.
# Poems (Tynan)/St. Valentine

THE WIND IN THE TREES
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 23/July 1883/Machines Driven by Solar Rays

Layout 4
* MACHINES DRIVEN BY SOLAR RAYS.
By GASTON TISSANDIER.
OUR readers have already been informed respecting the solar machines constructed by MM. Mouchot and Abel Pifre, in which the heat of the sun is employed, either directly or through the agency of steam generated directly by it, as the source of power, and of their successful application to certain purposes in Algeria. M. Pifre, who is an assistant to M. Mouchot in his engineering work in Algeria, has continued his experiments, and made some improvements in the machines, by which their operation has been rendered more effective. The principal improvement is in the form of the reflector, or insolator, by means of which the rays of the sun are concentrated upon the boiler or other object to be heated. M. Mouchot's reflector was in the form of a simple hollow cone, formed with a straight line of projection. M. Pifre bends the line of projection so as to give it three different inclinations, and thereby obtains for the surface of his mirror a form nearly like that of a paraboloid. An interesting experiment upon the possibility of adapting the apparatus of M. Pifre to a European sun ​was made on the 6th of August last, in the Garden of the Tuileries, Paris, on the occasion of the festival of the Union Française de la jeunnesse. An insolator, the reflector of which had an extreme diameter of three and a half metres, or nearly twelve feet, was set up near the steps of the Jeu de Paume. The steam generated in the boiler, which was placed in the focus of the mirror, was applied to a small
Printing a Newspaper by Solar Heat. Experiment by M. Abel Pifre in the Garden of the Tuileries, Paris, August 6, 1882.
vertical engine of thirty kilogrammetres power, and this was connected with a Maroni press. Although the sun was not very hot, and the radiation was interrupted by frequent clouds, the press was kept in regular operation from one o'clock in the afternoon till half-past five, printing on an average five hundred copies an hour of a journal specially prepared for the occasion, and called "Soleil-Journal" (Sun-Journal). This little experiment is not likely just yet to produce a revolution in the art of printing, but its success may enable us to judge, in some degree, how useful the insolators may be made in latitudes where ​the solar radiation is more intense and more constant than in Paris. The engraving correctly represents the arrangement of the apparatus. M. Pifre's insolator is shown in the center, with its great parabolic mirror. The engine which it drove is shown by the side of it, while on the right and in the foreground may be seen the press printing the journal. We have a right to believe that heliodynamics may at some future time be usefully and profitably employed in hot countries.
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 16, to an Old Man

EFFUSION XVI.
SWEET Mercy! how my very heart has bled To see thee, poor Old Man! and thy gray hairs Hoar with the snowy blast: while no one cares To cloathe thy shrivell'd limbs and palsied head. My Father! throw away this tatter'd vest That mocks thy shiv'ring! take my garment—use A young man's arms! I'll melt these frozen dews That hang from thy white beard and numb thy breast. My Sara too shall tend thee, like a Child: And thou shalt talk, in our fire side's recess, Of purple Pride, that scowls on Wretchedness.— He did not so, the Galilæan mild, Who met the Lazars turn'd from rich man's doors, And call'd them Friends, and heal'd their noisome Sores!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 21, on Brockley Coomb

EFFUSION XXI.
COMPOSED
WHILE CLIMBING THE LEFT ASCENT
OF
BROCKLEY COOMB,
IN THE
COUNTY OF SOMERSET,
MAY, 1795.
WITH many a pause and oft reverted eye
I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near
Warble in shade their wild-wood melody:
Far off th' unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear.
Up scour the startling stragglers of the Flock That on green plots o'er precipices brouze: From the forc'd fissures of the naked rock The Yew tree bursts! Beneath it's dark green boughs (Mid which the May-thorn blends it's blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, I rest.—And now have gain'd the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets My gaze! Proud Towers, and Cots more dear to me, Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 25, to Domestic Peace

First published in Coleridge's drama The Fall of Robespierre in 1795, in which it appears as a song
EFFUSION XXV.
TELL me, on what holy ground May Domestic Peace be found? Halcyon Daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wings she flies, From the pomp of scepter'd State, From the Rebel's noisy hate.
In a cottaged vale She dwells List'ning to the Sabbath bells! Still around her steps are seen Spotless Honor's meeker mien, Love, the fire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ Memory, bosom-spring of Joy.
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 2, to Burke

To Burke is a sonnet by Samuel Taylor Coleridge first published in the 9 December 1794 Morning Chronicle. Unlike most of the Sonnets on Eminent Characters, "To Burke" describes a person whom Coleridge disagreed with; he felt Edmund Burke abused the idea of freedom within various speeches and turned his back on liberty. Warning: template has been deprecated.
EFFUSION II.
AS late I lay in slumber's shadowy vale, With wetted cheek and in a mourner's guise I saw the fainted form of Freedom rise: She spake! not sadder moans the autumnal gale. "Great Son of Genius! sweet to me thy name, Ere in an evil hour with alter'd voice Thou badst Oppression's hireling crew rejoice Blasting with wizard spell my laurell'd fame. Yet never, Burke! thou drank'st Corruption's bowl! Thee stormy Pity and the cherish'd lure Of Pomp, and proud Precipitance of soul Wilder'd with meteor fires. Ah Spirit pure! That error's mist had left thy purged eye: So might I clasp thee with a Mother's joy!"
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 24, in the manner of Spencer

EFFUSION XXIV.
IN THE
MANNER OF SPENSER.
O PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love To rest thine head beneath an Olive Tree, I would, that from the pinions of thy Dove One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be! For ô! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee, And fain to her some soothing song would write, Lest she resent my rude discourtesy, Who vow'd to meet her ere the morning light, But broke my plighted word—ah! false and recreant Wight!
Last night as I my weary head did pillow With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engross'd, Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow, As tho' my breast entomb'd a pining ghost. "From someblest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast, "Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way; "But leave me with the matin hour, at most! "As night-clos'd Flowret to the orient ray, "My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey.
But Love, who heard the silence of my thought, Contriv'd a too successful wile, I ween: And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught— "Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles hath seen: "To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien!" He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed The Morning shot her dewy glances keen,
When as I 'gan to lift my drowsy head— "Now, Bard! I'll work thee woe!" the laughing Elfin said.
Sleep, softly-breathing God! his downy wing Was flutt'ring now, as quickly to depart; When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string, With pathless wound it pierc'd him to the heart. Was there some Magic in the Elfin's dart? Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance? For strait so fair a Form did upwards start (No fairer deck'd the Bowers of old Romance) That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor mov'd from his sweet Trance!
My Sara came, with gentlest Look divine; Bright shone her Eye, yet tender was its beam:
I felt the pressure of her Lip to mine! Whisp'ring we went, and Love was all our theme— Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem, He sprang from Heaven! Such joys with Sleep did 'bide, That I the living Image of my Dream Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd— "O! how shall I behold my Love at even-tide!"
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# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 19, to my own heart

EFFUSION XIX.
THOU bleedest, my poor Heart! and thy distress Reas'ning I ponder with a scornful smile And probe thy sore wound sternly, tho' the while Swoln be mine eye and dim with heaviness. Why didst thou listen to Hope's whisper bland? Or, list'ning, why forget the healing tale, When Jealousy with fev'rish fancies pale Jarr'd thy fine fibres with a maniac's hand? Faint was that Hope, and rayless!—Yet 'twas fair And sooth'd with many a dream the hour of rest: Thou should'st have lov'd it most, when most opprest, And nurs'd it with an agony of Care, Ev'n as a Mother her sweet infant heir That wan and sickly droops upon her breast!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 23, to the Nightingale

EFFUSION XXXIII.
TO THE NIGHTINGALE.
SISTER of love-lorn Poets, Philomel! How many Bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye Mark the faint Lamp-beam on the kennell'd mud, And listen to the drowsy cry of Watchmen, (Those hoarse unfeather'd Nightingales of Time!) How many wretched Bards address thy name. And Her's, the full-orb'd Queen, that shines above. But I do hear thee, and the high bough mark, Within whose mild moon-mellow'd foliage hid Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains, O! have I listen'd, till my working soul, Wak'd by those strains to thousand phantasies, Absorb'd hath ceas'd to listen! Therefore oft,
I hymn thy name: and with a proud delight Oft will I tell thee, Minstrel of the Moon! "Most musical, most melancholy" Bird! That all thy soft diversities of tone, Tho' sweeter far than the delicious airs That vibrate from a white-arm'd Lady's harp, What time the languishment of lonely love Melts in her eye, and heaves her breast of snow, Are not so sweet, as is the voice of her, My Sara—best belov'd of human Kind! When breathing the pure soul of Tenderness She thrills me with the Husband's promis'd name!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 17, to Genevieve

EFFUSION XVII.
MAID of my Love! sweet Genevieve! In Beauty's light you glide along: Your eye is like the star of eve, And sweet your Voice, as Seraph's song. Yet not your heavenly Beauty gives This heart with passion soft to glow: Within your soul a Voice there lives! It bids you hear the tale of Woe. When sinking low the Suff'rer wan Beholds no hand outstretcht to save, Fair, as the bosom of the Swan That rises graceful o'er the wave, I've seen your breast with pity heave, And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 18, to the Autumnal Moon

EFFUSION XVIII.
TO THE AUTUMNAL MOON.
MILD Splendor of the various-vested Night! Mother of wildly-working visions! hail! I watch thy gliding, while with watry light Thy weak eye glimmers thro' a fleecy veil; And when thou lovest thy pale orb to shroud Behind the gather'd blackness lost on high; And when thou dartest from the wind-rent cloud Thy placid lightning o'er th' awaken'd sky. Ah such is Hope! as changeful and as fair! Now dimly peering on the wistful light; Now hid behind the dragon-wing'd Despair: But soon emerging in her radiant might She o'er the sorrow-clouded breast of Care Sails, like a meteor kindling in it's flight.
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 20, to Schiller

EFFUSION XX.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE "ROBBERS."
SCHILLER! that hour I would have wish'd to die, If thro' the shudd'ring midnight I had sent From the dark dungeon of the tower time-rent That fearful voice, a famish'd Father's cry—— Left in some after moment aught more mean Might stamp me mortal! A triumphant shout Black Horror scream'd, and all her goblin rout Diminish'd shrunk from the more with'ring scene! Ah Bard tremendous in sublimity! Could I behold thee in thy loftier mood Wand'ring at eve with finely-frenzied eye Beneath some vast old tempest-swinging wood! Awhile with mute awe gazing I would brood: Then weep aloud in a wild extacy!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 7, to Siddons

To Mrs Siddons was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and published in the 29 December 1794 Morning Chronicle as part of the 'Sonnets on Eminent Characters' series. It describes Sarah Siddons, an actress Coleridge became fond of during his visits to London during college. The poem celebrates watching Siddons perform her various roles on stage. The actual authorship of the poem is uncertain, since it was attributed to Charles Lamb in various works. It is possible that Lamb and Coleridge worked on the poem together, and, if so, it would be one of Lamb's earliest works. Warning: template has been deprecated.
EFFUSION VII.
AS when a child on some long winter's night Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell; Or of those hags, who at the witching time Of murky midnight ride the air sublime, And mingle foul embrace with fiends of Hell; Cold Horror drinks it's blood! Anon the tear More gentle starts, to hear the Beldame tell Of pretty babes, that lov'd each other dear, Murder'd by cruel Uncle's mandate fell: Ev'n such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart, Ev'n so thou, Siddons! meltest my sad heart!
C.L.
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 5, to Erskine

To Erskine or To the Hon Mr Erskine was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in November 1794 and first published in the 1 December 1794 Morning Chronicle as part of the Sonnets on Eminent Characters series. The subject of the poem is Thomas Erskine, a lawyer and member of the Whig party, who successfully served in the defence of three political radicals during the 1794 Treason Trials. Coleridge admired Erskine's defence and praised his refusal to accept money for his service. Warning: template has been deprecated.
EFFUSION V.
WHEN British Freedom for an happier land Spread her broad wings, that flutter'd with affright, Erskine! thy voice she heard, and paus'd her flight Sublime of hope! For dreadless thou didst stand (Thy censer glowing with the hallow'd flame) An hireless Priest before th' insulted shrine, And at her altar pourd'st the stream divine Of unmatch'd eloquence. Therefore thy name Her sons shall venerate, and cheer thy breast With blessings heaven-ward breath'd. And when the doom Of Nature bids thee die, beyond the tomb Thy light shall shine: as sunk beneath the West Tho' the great Summer Sun eludes our gaze, Still burns wide Heaven with his distended blaze.
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 4, to Priestley

To Priestley is a sonnet by Samuel Taylor Coleridge first published in the 11 December 1794 Morning Chronicle. Like most of the Sonnets on Eminent Characters, "To Priestley" addresses an individual Coleridge particularly admired; Joseph Priestley held many political and theological beliefs that Coleridge adopted during this time.Warning: template has been deprecated.
EFFUSION IV.
THO' rous'd by that dark Vizir riot rude Have driven our Priestly o'er the ocean swell; Tho' Superstition and her wolfish brood Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell; Calm in his halls of Brightness he shall dwell! For lo! Religion at his strong behest Starts with mild anger from the Papal spell, And flings to Earth her tinsel-glittering vest, Her mitred state and cumbrous pomp unholy; And Justice wakes to bid th' Oppressor wail Insulting aye the wrongs of patient Folly; And from her dark retreat by Wisdom won Meek Nature slowly lifts her matron veil To smile with fondness on her gazing son!
# Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 8, to Kosciusco

To Kosciusko is the name shared by three sonnets written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Leigh Hunt, and John Keats. Coleridge's, the original, was written in December 1794 and published in the 16 December 1794 Morning Chronicle as the fifth of his 'Sonnets on Eminent Characters' series. Hunt and Keats were inspired to follow his poem with their own versions (under the same title) in November 1815 and December 1816, respectively. The sonnets were dedicated to the heroism of Tadeusz Kościuszko, leader of the 1794 Polish rebellion against Prussian and Russian control. Warning: template has been deprecated.
EFFUSION VIII.
O WHAT a loud and fearful shriek was there, As tho' a thousand souls one death-groan pour'd! Ah me! they view'd beneath an hireling's sword Fall'n KOSKIUSKO! Thro' the burthen'd air (As pauses the tir'd Cossac's barb'rous yell Of Triumph) on the chill and midnight gale Rises with frantic burst or sadder swell The dirge of murder'd Hope! while Freedom pale Bends in such anguish o'er her destin'd bier, As if from eldest time some Spirit meek Had gather'd in a mystic urn each tear That ever furrow'd a sad Patriot's cheek; And she had drain'd the sorrows of the bowl Ev'n till she reel'd, intoxicate of soul!