OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield/The Isham MS.

The Arms of Barnfield, From the Harleian MS. 1241.
From the Isham MS. Lamport Hall, Northampton.
Monogram from Barnfield's Will at Lichfield.
VI. FROM A MS. IN THE POSSESSION OF SIR CHARLES H. ISHAM, LAMPORT HALL, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.
Note.—The Manuscript, of which there follows for the first time, an exact reproduction, belongs to Sir Charles H. Isham, bart., of Lamport Hall, Northampton. It is a small paper book of eighteen leaves within a vellum skin, which seems a leaf of a Latin treatise. There is one leaf blank, and on the verso of the next the Latin lines on Tarquin and Lucrece begin; and so onward on other ten leaves—the last on one side only. The remainder is blank. Mr. A. J. Horwood is uncharacteristically inaccurate in his description of the MS. as Richard Barnfield's autograph is not at the end of the MS. but on page 17, in signing the verse-dedication to Sir John Spencer. See our Introduction on what belongs and does not (probably) belong to Barnefield.—G.
* Tarquinius viso Lucretiae gestu…
* The Shepherdes Confession
* Euery knight of ye order of ye Snuffe…
* My prime of youth is but a froste of cares…
* Incerti Authoris
* To the right Worll Sir John Spenser Knighte…
* There is a thinge yt much is vsd…
* Epitaphium
* A lustie nutt browne wenche scant woorth ye naming…
* Sweete hart to deale trewly I loue thee not much…
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield/The Isham MS./A lustie nutt browne wenche scant woorth ye naming

A lustie nutt browne wenche scant woorth y$^e$ naminge went downe a staier bearinge a candle flaming: A swagering gallant comming her t'encounter att first approache couragiously would mount her: Shee strongly made resistaunce and did sweare she would burne him by that candle she did beare: Hee blew y$^e$ candle out to breake hir vowe she kept her promise still, immagine how.
FINIS.
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield/The Isham MS./Incerti Authoris

INCERTI AUTHORIS.
Wife.
The double V, is dowble woe The I, is nought but ielosie The F, is fawninge flatterie The E is nought but enmitie. Thus V wth I, wth f, wth E: Brings nothinge els but miserie.
Answere.
Is double V such double woe Speake of no more then that you knowe. Tis weale, tis wealth, and nothing soe I, Joye is, not iealosie. ​F fauor is, not flattery. E is true loues eternytie. Thus, V, wth I, wth F, wth E well consterd is felicitie.
FINIS.
# Ante-Nicene Fathers/Volume VIII/The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs/Title Page

The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.
[Translated by the Rev. Robert Sinker, M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge.]
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To my Sister

TO MY SISTER
WITH A COPY OF “THE SUPERNATURALISM OF NEW ENGLAND”
The work referred to was a series of papers under this title, contributed to the Democratic Review and afterward collected into a volume, in which I noted some of the superstitions and folklore prevalent in New England. The volume has not been kept in print, but most of its contents are distributed in my Literary Recreations and Miscellanies [now scattered in volumes v. and vi. of the Riverside edition].
Dear Sister! while the wise and sage Turn coldly from my playful page, And count it strange that ripened age Should stoop to boyhood’s folly; I know that thou wilt judge aright Of all which makes the heart more light, Or lends one star-gleam to the night Of clouded Melancholy.
Away with weary cares and themes! Swing wide the moonlit gate of dreams! Leave free once more the land which teems With wonders and romances! Where thou, with clear discerning eyes, Shalt rightly read the truth which lies Beneath the quaintly masking guise Of wild and wizard fancies.
Lo! once again our feet we set On still green wood-paths, twilight wet, By lonely brooks, whose waters fret The roots of spectral beeches; Again the hearth-fire glimmers o’er Home’s whitewashed wall and painted floor, And young eyes widening to the lore Of faery-folks and witches.
Dear heart! the legend is not vain Which lights that holy hearth again, And calling back from care and pain, And death’s funereal sadness, Draws round its old familiar blaze The clustering groups of happier days, And lends to sober manhood’s gaze A glimpse of childish gladness.
And, knowing how my life hath been A weary work of tongue and pen, A long, harsh strife with strong-willed men, Thou wilt not chide my turning To con, at times, an idle rhyme, To pluck a flower from childhood’s clime, Or listen, at Life’s noonday chime, For the sweet bells of Morning!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To Delaware

TO DELAWARE
Written during the discussion in the Legislature of that State, in the winter of 1846–47, of a bill for the abolition of slavery.
Thrice welcome to thy sisters of the East, To the strong tillers of a rugged home, With spray-wet locks to Northern winds released, And hardy feet o’erswept by ocean’s foam; And to the young nymphs of the golden West, Whose harvest mantles, fringed with prairie bloom, Trail in the sunset,—O redeemed and blest, To the warm welcome of thy sisters come! Broad Pennsylvania, down her sail-white bay Shall give thee joy, and Jersey from her plains, And the great lakes, where echo, free alway, Moaned never shoreward with the clank of chains, Shall weave new sun-bows in their tossing spray, And all their waves keep grateful holiday. And, smiling on thee through her mountain rains, Vermont shall bless thee; and the granite peaks,
And vast Katahdin o’er his woods, shall wear Their snow-crowns brighter in the cold, keen air; And Massachusetts, with her rugged cheeks O’errun with grateful tears, shall turn to thee, When, at thy bidding, the electric wire Shall tremble northward with its words of fire; Glory and praise to God! another State is free!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To Faneuil Hall

TO FANEUIL HALL
Written in 1844, on reading a call by “a Massachusetts Freeman” for a meeting in Faneuil Hall of the citizens of Massachusetts, without distinction of party, opposed to the annexation of Texas and the aggressions of South Carolina, and in favor of decisive action against slavery.
Men! if manhood still ye claim, If the Northern pulse can thrill, Roused by wrong or stung by shame, Freely, strongly still; Let the sounds of traffic die: Shut the mill-gate, leave the stall, Fling the axe and hammer by; Throng to Faneuil Hall!
Wrongs which freemen never brooked, Dangers grim and fierce as they, Which, like couching lions, looked On your fathers’ way; These your instant zeal demand, Shaking with their earthquake-call Every rood of Pilgrim land, Ho, to Faneuil Hall!
From your capes and sandy bars, From your mountain-ridges cold, Through whose pines the westering stars Stoop their crowns of gold; Come, and with your footsteps wake Echoes from that holy wall; Once again, for Freedom’s sake, Rock your fathers’ hall!
Up, and tread beneath your feet Every cord by party spun: Let your hearts together beat As the heart of one. Banks and tariffs, stocks and trade, Let them rise or let them fall: Freedom asks your common aid,— Up, to Faneuil Hall!
Up, and let each voice that speaks Ring from thence to Southern plains, Sharply as the blow which breaks Prison-bolts and chains! Speak as well becomes the free: Dreaded more than steel or ball, Shall your calmest utterance be, Heard from Faneuil Hall!
Have they wronged us? Let us then Render back nor threats nor prayers; Have they chained our free-born men? Let us unchain theirs! Up, your banner leads the van, Blazoned, “Liberty for all!” Finish what your sires began! Up, to Faneuil Hall!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To Massachusetts

TO MASSACHUSETTS
What though around thee blazes No fiery rallying sign? From all thy own high places, Give heaven the light of thine! What though unthrilled, unmoving, The statesman stand apart,
And comes no warm approving From Mammon’s crowded mart?
Still let the land be shaken By a summons of thine own! By all save truth forsaken, Stand fast with that alone! Shrink not from strife unequal! With the best is always hope; And ever in the sequel God holds the right side up!
But when, with thine uniting, Come voices long and loud, And far-off hills are writing Thy fire-words on the cloud; When from Penobscot’s fountains A deep response is heard, And across the Western mountains Rolls back thy rallying word;
Shall thy line of battle falter, With its allies just in view? Oh, by hearth and holy altar, My fatherland, be true! Fling abroad thy scrolls of Freedom! Speed them onward far and fast! Over hill and valley speed them, Like the sibyl’s on the blast!
Lo! the Empire State is shaking The shackles from her hand; With the rugged North is waking The level sunset land! On they come, the free battalions! East and West and North they come, And the heart-beat of the millions Is the beat of Freedom’s drum.
“To the tyrant’s plot no favor! No heed to place-fed knaves! Bar and bolt the door forever Against the land of slaves!” Hear it, mother Earth, and hear it, The heavens above us spread! The land is roused,—its spirit Was sleeping, but not dead!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To William H. Seward

TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD
On the 12th of January, 1861, Mr. Seward delivered in the Senate chamber a speech on The State of the Union, in which he urged the paramount duty of preserving the Union, and went as far as it was possible to go, without surrender of principle in concessions to the Southern party.
Statesman, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent Mingles, reluctant, with my large content, I cannot censure what was nobly meant. But, while constrained to hold even Union less Than Liberty and Truth and Righteousness, I thank thee in the sweet and holy name Of peace, for wise calm words that put to shame Passion and party. Courage may be shown Not in defiance of the wrong alone; He may be bravest who, unweaponed, bears The olive branch, and, strong in justice, spares The rash wrong-doer, giving widest scope To Christian charity and generous hope. If, without damage to the sacred cause Of Freedom and the safeguard of its laws— If, without yielding that for which alone We prize the Union, thou canst save it now From a baptism of blood, upon thy brow A wreath whose flowers no earthly soil have known, Woven of the beatitudes, shall rest, And the peacemaker be forever blest!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To a Southern Statesman

TO A SOUTHERN STATESMAN
John C. Calhoun, who had strongly urged the extension of slave territory by the annexation of Texas, even if it should involve a war with England, was unwilling to promote the acquisition of Oregon, which would enlarge the Northern domain of freedom, and pleaded as an excuse the peril of foreign complications which he had defied when the interests of slavery were involved.
Is this thy voice whose treble notes of fear Wail in the wind? And dost thou shake to hear, Actæon-like, the bay of thine own hounds, Spurning the leash, and leaping o’er their bounds? Sore-baffled statesman! when thy eager hand, With game afoot, unslipped the hungry pack, To hunt down Freedom in her chosen land, Hadst thou no fear, that, erelong, doubling back, These dogs of thine might snuff on Slavery’s track? Where ’s now the boast, which even thy guarded tongue, Cold, calm, and proud, in the teeth o’ the Senate flung, O’er the fulfilment of thy baleful plan, Like Satan’s triumph at the fall of man? How stood’st thou then, thy feet on Freedom planting, And pointing to the lurid heaven afar, Whence all could see, through the south windows slanting, Crimson as blood, the beams of that Lone Star! The Fates are just; they give us but our own; Nemesis ripens what our hands have sown. There is an Eastern story, not unknown, Doubtless, to thee, of one whose magic skill Called demons up his water-jars to fill; Deftly and silently, they did his will, But, when the task was done, kept pouring still. In vain with spell and charm the wizard wrought, Faster and faster were the buckets brought, Higher and higher rose the flood around, Till the fiends clapped their hands above their master drowned! So, Carolinian, it may prove with thee, For God still overrules man’s schemes, and takes Craftiness in its self-set snare, and makes The wrath of man to praise Him. It may be, That the roused spirits of Democracy May leave to freer States the same wide door Through which thy slave-cursed Texas entered in, From out the blood and fire, the wrong and sin, Of the stormed city and the ghastly plain,
Beat by hot hail, and wet with bloody rain, The myriad-handed pioneer may pour, And the wild West with the roused North combine And heave the engineer of evil with his mine.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Trinitas

TRINITAS
At morn I prayed, “I fain would see How Three are One, and One is Three; Read the dark riddle unto me.”
I wandered forth, the sun and air I saw bestowed with equal care On good and evil, foul and fair.
No partial favor dropped the rain; Alike the righteous and profane Rejoiced above their heading grain.
And my heart murmured, “Is it meet That blindfold Nature thus should treat With equal hand the tares and wheat?”
A presence melted through my mood,— A warmth, a light, a sense of good, Like sunshine through a winter wood.
I saw that presence, mailed complete In her white innocence, pause to greet A fallen sister of the street.
Upon her bosom snowy pure The lost one clung, as if secure From inward guilt or outward lure.
“Beware!” I said; “in this I see No gain to her, but loss to thee: Who touches pitch defiled must be.”
I passed the haunts of shame and sin, And a voice whispered, “Who therein Shall these lost souls to Heaven’s peace win?
“Who there shall hope and health dispense, And lift the ladder up from thence Whose rounds are prayers of penitence?”
I said, “No higher life they know; These earth-worms love to have it so. Who stoops to raise them sinks as low.”
That night with painful care I read What Hippo’s saint and Calvin said; The living seeking to the dead!
In vain I turned, in weary quest, Old pages, where (God give them rest!) The poor creed-mongers dreamed and guessed.
And still I prayed, “Lord, let me see How Three are One, and One is Three; Read the dark riddle unto me!”
Then something whispered, “Dost thou pray For what thou hast? This very day The Holy Three have crossed thy way.
“Did not the gifts of sun and air To good and ill alike declare The all-compassionate Father’s care?
“In the white soul that stooped to raise The lost one from her evil ways, Thou saw’st the Christ, whom angels praise!
“A bodiless Divinity, The still small Voice that spake to thee Was the Holy Spirit’s mystery!
“O blind of sight, of faith how small! Father, and Son, and Holy Call; This day thou hast denied them all!
“Revealed in love and sacrifice, The Holiest passed before thine eyes, One and the same, in threefold guise.
“The equal Father in rain and sun, His Christ in the good to evil done, His Voice in thy soul;—and the Three are One!”
I shut my grave Aquinas fast; The monkish gloss of ages past, The schoolman’s creed aside I cast.
And my heart answered, “Lord, I see How Three are One, and One is Three; Thy riddle hath been read to me!”
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To Pennsylvania

TO PENNSYLVANIA
State prayer-founded! never hung Such choice upon a people’s tongue, Such power to bless or ban, As that which makes thy whisper Fate, For which on thee the centuries wait, And destinies of man!
Across thy Alleghanian chain, With groanings from a land in pain, The west-wind finds its way: Wild-wailing from Missouri’s flood The crying of thy children’s blood Is in thy ears to-day!
And unto thee in Freedom’s hour Of sorest need God gives the power To ruin or to save; To wound or heal, to blight or bless With fertile field or wilderness, A free home or a grave!
Then let thy virtue match the crime, Rise to a level with the time; And, if a son of thine Betray or tempt thee, Brutus-like For Fatherland and Freedom strike As Justice gives the sign.
Wake, sleeper, from thy dream of ease, The great occasion’s forelock seize; And let the north-wind strong, And golden leaves of autumn, be Thy coronal of Victory And thy triumphal song.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/To William Lloyd Garrison

ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS
TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON
[Read at the Convention which formed the American Anti-Slavery Society, in Philadelphia, December, 1833.]
Champion of those who groan beneath Oppression’s iron hand: In view of penury, hate, and death, I see thee fearless stand. Still bearing up thy lofty brow, In the steadfast strength of truth, In manhood sealing well the vow And promise of thy youth.
Go on, for thou hast chosen well; On in the strength of God! Long as one human heart shall swell Beneath the tyrant’s rod. Speak in a slumbering nation’s ear, As thou hast ever spoken, Until the dead in sin shall hear, The fetter’s link be broken!
I love thee with a brother’s love, I feel my pulses thrill, To mark thy spirit soar above The cloud of human ill. My heart hath leaped to answer thine, And echo back thy words, As leaps the warrior’s at the shine And flash of kindred swords!
They tell me thou art rash and vain, A searcher after fame; That thou art striving but to gain A long-enduring name; That thou hast nerved the Afric’s hand And steeled the Afric’s heart, To shake aloft his vengeful brand, And rend his chain apart.
Have I not known thee well, and read Thy mighty purpose long? And watched the trials which have made Thy human spirit strong? And shall the slanderer’s demon breath Avail with one like me, To dim the sunshine of my faith And earnest trust in thee?
Go on, the dagger’s point may glare Amid thy pathway’s gloom; The fate which sternly threatens there Is glorious martyrdom! Then onward with a martyr’s zeal; And wait thy sure reward When man to man no more shall kneel, And God alone be Lord!
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 1/Doings of the National Alliance

DOINGS OF THE NATIONAL ALLIANCE.
During the visit of the Russian commission to Chicago on August 3 and 4 a memorial meeting was arranged by the Bohemian National Alliance in honor of the brave men of the Czech regiments which fought so bravely at Tarnopol. The meeting was addressed by Professor George Lomonossov of the Russian mission. Six thousands Bohemians and Slovaks waited nearly three hours in the Pilsen Park for the distinguished speaker. A Bohemian flag was presented to Prof. Lomonossov with the request that he deliver it to the Czecho-Slovak army in Russia, and tremendous enthusiasm was aroused, when the Russian diplomat kissed its folds, as he received it. The following day at the Stock Yarks Pavilion meeting an engraved address of welcome was presented to Ambassador Bakhmetieff on be half of the Bohemian National Alliance.
During the discussion of the problem of drafting the numerous aliens who claimed exemption as non-declarants, Dr. L. J. Fisher, President of the Alliance, addressed a letter to the members of the Senate committee in favor of a bill to make aliens equally liable with citizens. “All the rules of square deal, all the obligations of gratitude, demand that when the country is in danger, all residents, citizens and aliens alike, should offer their lives in its defense.”
The International Typographical Union, numbering 460 locals with 70,000 members, adopted at its annual convention at Colorado Springs a strong resolution in favor of Bohemian independence.
Steady growth of the Bohemian Alliance in numbers and influence is to be recorded for the month of August. The number of branches reached 215; it will not grow much now, since nearly every Bohemian settlement in this country, however remote, has already a branch of the Alliance. Several of the larger branches are making extensive preparations for a national fete on Labor Day; in attendance and enthusiasm these „posvícení” will probably exceed anything arranged in the past among Bohemians in America.
Among the new workers in the interest of Czecho-slovak independence is Erwin L. Chloupek, an attorney of San Francisco, who is making friends for Bohemia by his English lectures on this little-known country.
This work was published before January 1, 1929 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 95 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 1/Emperor Charles does not feel very secure on his throne

​Emperor Charles does not feel very secure on his throne. Since he succeeded his granduncle, Charles and various archdukes have sent out one hundred and fifty million crowns into Switzerland and Holland, so that they might have something to fall back on, when the Hapsburg dynasty shall no longer be wanted.
# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 1/Enthusiasm grows

ENTHUSIASM GROWS.
Before the war no one acquainted with the Bohemian people in this country would have believed the assertion that a hundred thousand dollars could be collected by them in a few months for any purpose, however worthy. Constant complaints were made by Bohemian journalists, public speakers, preachers and others that the Bohemian immigrant in America adopted for his working philosophy materialism pure and simple, that all he is interested in is to make money, buy a house, put away a few mortgages, that nothing can move him except self-interest. Seven years ago a campaign was under taken to collect a million pennies as a gift of Czechs in America for the support of Bohemian common schools in Bohemian and Moravian towns controlled by the Germans. Although most of the Bohemian publications in this country supported this campaign, it took more than a year to collect ten thousand dollars from half a million people.
What a contrast is presented by the record of the past three months. Bazaars in three cities alone netted about ninety thousand dollars. Reference was made in a previous issue to the fair of the Czechs in New York, held before Christmas, the proceeds of which amounted to $23,000. Chicago, jealous of its primacy among the Bohemian settlements in America, made a determined effort to beat that figure, and in an eight-day bazaar held in the first days of March earned a sum which is at present estimated at $40,000. Of course, Chicago should have done still better compared to New York, be cause nearly three times as many Bohemians live in Chicago as in New York. Chicago workers urge several good reasons, why they did not make at least seventy thousand, the chief reason being that they could not get a hall large enough to admit all who came to spend money.
But after all Cleveland is entitled to the place of honor among the rival “Bohemian” cities of the United States. Its Bohemian speaking population is about as large as that of New York, but is more scattered and the hall they had to use for their fair, which was held in the middle of March, was very unsatisfactory. Yet they beat New York by a fair margin, the net proceeds being according to the latest figures over thirty thousand.
This does not express the full measure of cheerful giving which has been such a remarkable feature in the life of Bohemian immigrants in America during the last two years. The few hundred Czechs in San Francisco with their three thousand dollar bazaar still hold the record for generosity among the many similar undertakings of the past winter. And the little Czech colony in Boston, numbering about fifty families and having to its credit gifts exceeding five thousand dollars, demonstrates clearly the new discovery that the Bohemian immigrant in his chase after the dollar has not lost all ideals and that he is still capable of self-sacrifice.