OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/24

24 (k-d 12)
| I move on my feet, I break up the ground, the green meadows, as long as I live. If life leaves me I then bind fast the swarthy Welsh, and sometimes better men. Sometimes I give drink to a strong man from out of my bosom. Sometimes the stately dame treads me underfoot. Sometimes the Welsh girl, dark-haired slave brought from afar, stupid and drunk, on dark nights lifts me and presses me, soaks me in water, warms me sometimes kindly by the fire, her wanton hands thrust in my bosom; turning often sweeps through the dark. Say what my name is who living ravage the land, and dead am of service to men. | 10 | Fotum ic fere foldan slite grene wongas þenden ic gæst bere gif me feorh losað fæste binde swearte wealas, hwilum sellan men hwilum ic deorum drincan selle beorn of bosme hwilum mec bryd triedeð felawlonc fotum hwilum feorran broht wonfeax wale wegeð ⁊ þyð dol druncmennen deorcum nihtū wæteð in wætre wyrmeð hwilum fægre to fyre me on fæðme sticaþ hygegalan hond hwyrfeð geneahhe swifeð me geond sweartne Saga hwæt ic hatte þe ic lifgende lond reafige ⁊ æfter deaþe dryhtum þeowige |
Leather; first on the living ox, then made into thongs, wine bottles, and shoes, which are cleaned by the Welsh slave. But “sweeps” in l. 13 is Chaucer’s word swive and probably carries a salacious innuendo.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/25

25 (k-d 72)
[The first few lines are defective.]
| I was little … … my sister fed me. … Often I tugged at four dear brothers, each one gave me daily to drink, through a hole freely. I throve happily until I was older and left all that to the swarthy herdsman. I traveled farther to the Welsh marches, traversed the moors, bound under a beam. I had a ring on my neck, suffered woes on my way, was forced to perform my share of labors. Often the goad hurt me sorely on my sides. But I was silent, never spoke out to any man, if ever the pricks were painful to me. | 10 | Ic wæs lytel […] fo[…] […]te geaf · […] […]pe þe unc gemæne […] […] sweostor mīn fedde mec […] oft ic feower teah swæse broþor þara onsundran gehwylc dægtidū me drincan sealde þurh þyrel þearle Ic þæh on lust oþþæt Ic wæs yldra ⁊ þæt anforlet sweartū hyrde siþade widdor mearc paþas walas træd moras pæðde bunden under beame beag hæfde on healse wean on laste weorc þrowade earfoða dæl oft mec isern scōd sare on sidan ic swigade næfre meldade monna ængū gif me ordstæpe egle wæron |
The young Ox, fed at its mother’s dugs. It grew up and left the milking to herdsmen; later it was forced to draw a plow.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/27

27 (k-d 76)
| I saw a woman sitting alone. | Ic ane geseah idese sittan |
Hen has been suggested, as well as mirror. Or this may be first line of a riddle, of which the rest is lost.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/28

28 (k-d 13)
| I saw them, all ten, treading the turf, the six brothers and their sisters too, living and lively. Their skins hung plainly, visibly manifest, on the wall of the house, each and every one; nor was any the worse, nor side the sorer, though thus they must, despoiled of their raiment, roused by the power of heaven’s Lord, tear with their mouths the gray-green leaves. Their garment is renewed; having now come forth they leave their coverings lying behind them as they tread the ground. | 10 | Ic seah turf tredan x wæron ealra vi gebroþor ⁊ hyra sweostor mid hæfdon feorg cwico fell hongedon sweotol ⁊ gesyne on seles wæge anra gehwylces ne wæs hyra ængū þy wyrs ne side þy sarra þeah hy swa sceoldon reafe birofene rodra weardes meahtum aweahte muþum slitan haswe blede hrægl bið geniwad þam þe ær forðcymene frætwe leton licgan on laste gewitan lond tredan · :⁊ |
This was best explained by Mrs. von Erhardt-Siebold in MLN lxv (1950), 97–100. Ten Chickens, in Anglo-Saxon ten ciccenu, having six consonants and four vowels. When they are first hatched their skins cling to the broken shells. Then they begin to eat and are soon covered with down.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/29

29 (k-d 15)
| My neck is white, my head is tawny and so are my sides. I am swift in my stride. I bear weapons of battle. On my back there is hair and the same on my cheeks. Over my eyes two ears stand up. I walk on my toes in the green grass. My doom is certain if anyone finds me, if a slaughterous fighter finds me hidden where I make my home, bold with my bairns. And there I abide with my little family when the stranger comes to my very doors. Death is their doom. I must carry them off, save them by flight with fear in my heart away from my home. If he crowds me hard, moving on his belly, I dare not abide that fierce one in my burrow (that would be surely not a good counsel) but bravely I must with both hands and feet create a path through the high hill. Easily I can save them, my beloved kin, if I can bring my household by a secret way through the hollow hill; for there I need fear never a whit the murderous whelp. If the hateful foe follows me hard through the narrow track he shall have no lack of the clash of battle when we meet in the burrow; when I get to the top of the hill and turn on him with weapons of war, whom I formerly fled from. | 10 20 | Hals is min hwit ⁊ heafod fealo sidan swa some swift ic eom on feþe beadowæpen bere me on bæce standað her swylce swe on leorum hlifiað tu earan ofer eagum ordum ic steppe in grenne græs me bið gyrn witod gif mec onhæle an onfindeð wælgrim wiga þær ic wic buge blod mid bearnum ⁊ ic bide þær mid geoguðcnosle hwonne gæst cume to durum minū him biþ deað witod · forþon ic sceal of eðle eaforan mine forhtmod fergan fleame nergan gif he me æfter weard ealles wearþeð hineberað breost ic his biddan ne dear reþes on geruman nele þæt ræd teale ac ic sceal fromlice feþemundū þurh steapne beorg stræte wyrcan eaþe ic mæg freora feorh genergan gif ic mægburge mot mine gelædan onde golne weg þurh dum þyrel swæse ⁊ gesibbe ic me siþþan ne þearf wælhwelpes wig wiht onsittan gifre niðsceaþa nearwe stige me on swaþe seceþ ne tosæleþ hī on þam gegnpaþe guþgemotes siþþan ic þurh hylles hrof geræce ⁊ þurh hest hrino hildepilum laðgewinnum þam þe ic longe fleah |
Badger. The coloring is not quite accurate, but near enough, and some allowance must be made for evasive detail. The word hildepilum in l. 28 properly means ‘javelins’ or ‘darts’ and has suggested that the porcupine was meant. But the riddler has a good answer. He has loaded his lines with epic compounds—six of them hapaxes—evidently to create an atmosphere of heroic battle. When the badger gets into the open he fights the dog as man to man.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/31

31 (k-d 34)
| I saw a thing in the dwellings of men that feeds the cattle; has many teeth. The beak is useful to it; it goes downwards, ravages faithfully; pulls homewards; hunts along walls; reaches for roots. Always it finds them, those which are not fast; lets them, the beautiful, when they are fast, stand in quiet in their proper places, brightly shining, growing, blooming. | Ic wiht geseah in wera burgum seo þæt feoh fedeð hafað fela toþa nebb biþ hyre æt nytte niþerweard gongeð hiþeð holdlice ⁊ to ham tyhð wæþeð geond weallas wyrte seceð āa heo þa findeð þa þe fæst ne biþ læteð hio þa wlitigan wyrtum fæste stille stondan on staþolwonge beorhte blican blowan ⁊ growan |
Rake.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/26

26 (k-d 38)
| I saw the creature, of the arms-bearing kind, greedy for youth’s joys. As its due it let four nourishing fountains, brightly shining, shoot forth noisily, as is right and proper. Then spake a man, who said to me: “The creature, if it lives, will break up the hillside; if rent apart, will bind the living.” | Ic þa wiht geseah wæpned cynnes · geoguð myrþe grædig him on gafol forlet ferðfriþende feower wellan scire sceotan on gesceap þeotan mon maþelade se þe me gesægde seo wiht gif hio gedygeð duna briceð gif he tobirsteð bindeð cwice |
Bull calf. See pp. xiv f. above. “Arms-bearing” means “masculine.”
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/30

30 (k-d 77)
| The sea fed me; the water-helm was over me, and waves covered me, close to the ground. I was footless. Often toward the water I opened my mouth. Now people will eat my meat. They want not my skin. When they rip my hide with the point of a knife . . . . . . . . . Then they eat me uncooked. . . . | Se me fedde sundhelm þeahte ⁊ mec yþa wrugon eorþan getenge feþelease oft ic flode ongean muð ontynde nu wile monna sum min flæsc fretan felles ne recceð siþþan he me of sidan seaxes orde hyd arypeð […]ec hr[…]þe siþþan iteð unsodene ea[…]d. |
Oyster.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/3

This is a version of Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/3 that has been annotated by the Wikisource community.
3 (k-d 29)
| I saw a being in wondrous wise hold its plunder between its horns, a vessel of light, of shining beauty, bringing it home, a spoil of battle. It wished to build a bower in the burg and cunningly place it —if so might be. Then a wondrous being came over the roof, known to all children of mortal men, recovered the spoil and then brought back the unwilling exile. Westward it went, hurrying home after the battle. Dust rose to the skies; dew fell on the ground; night departed and none thereafter knew its way, whither it went. | 10 | Ic wiht geseah wundorlice horna abitweonū huþe lædan lyftfæt leohtlic listrum gegierwed huþe to þam ham of þā heresiþe walde hyre on þære byrig bur atimbram searwum asettan gif hit swa meahte · ða cwom wundorlicu wiht ofer wealles hrof seo is eallum cuð eorðbuendum ahredde þa þa huþe ⁊ to ham bedræf wreccan ofer willan gewat hyre west þonan fæhþum feran forð o netteð dust stonc to heofonum deaw feol on eorþan niht forð gewat nænig siþþan wera gewiste þære wihte sið |
Some strange solutions have been proposed, but the correct one is no doubt the monthly contest of Sun and Moon. The plunder is the old moon in the new moon’s arms. The moon would like to make itself a home in the heavens, but the familiar sun comes up and the moon is routed.
# Anglo-Saxon Riddles of the Exeter Book/Annotated/32

32 (k-d 21)
| My beak is downward and low I move and dig in the ground. The hoar foe of the forest directs my movements; and so my master goes bent over, the guide at my tail, drives across the field, pushes me and crowds me, and sows in my swath. I go sniffing along, brought from the woodland, stoutly fastened, borne on a wagon. I have many strange ways. I leave green on one side and black on the other. Driven through my back there hangs beneath a well-sharpened point; on my head another, firm and forward-moving. What I tear with my teeth falls to the side, if he serves me well, my lord who behind me heeds me and guides me. | 10 | Neb is min niþerweard neol ic fere ⁊ be grunde græfe geonge swa me wisað har holtes feond ⁊ hlaford min · woh færeð weard æt steorte wrigaþ on wonge wegeð mec ⁊ þyð saweþ ōn swæð mīn ic snyþige forð brungen of bearme bunden cræfte wegen on wægne hæbbe wundra fela me biþ gongendre grene on healfe ⁊ min swæð sweotol sweart on oþre me þurh hrycg wrecen hongaþ under ān orþoncpil oþer on heafde fæst ⁊ forðweard fealleþ on sidan ꝥ ic toþum tere gif me teala þenaþ hindeweardre þæt biþ hlaford min |
Plow, as would be easily recognized by those familiar with its structure. The “hoar foe of the forest” may mean the man who clears the woodland for his field, the plowman, or the plowshare (“the iron which, in the shape of an axe, bears ill-will to the tree”). See B. Colgrave, MLR xxxii (1937), 281–83. The beak or nose is the plowshare; the wagon is the fore-carriage; the sharp point underneath is the coulter.
# An Essay on Crimes and Punishments/Chapter XII

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​consolation to me for the contempt of all mankind.
CHAPTER XII.
Of the Intent of Punishments.
FROM the foregoing considerations it is evident, that the intent of punishments is not to torment a sensible being, nor to undo a crime already committed. Is it possible that torments and useless cruelty, the instrument of furious fanaticism, or the impotency of tyrants, can be authorised by a political body? which, so far from being influenced by passion, should be the cool moderator of the passions of individuals. Can the groans of a tortured wretch recall the time past, or reverse the crime he has committed?
The end of punishment, therefore, is no other, than to prevent the criminal from doing further injury to society, and to prevent others from committing the like ​offence. Such punishments, therefore, and such a mode of inflicting them, ought to be chosen, as will make the strongest and most lasting impressions on the minds of others, with the least torment to the body of the criminal.
# An Essay on Crimes and Punishments/Chapter X

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CHAP. X.
Of Duelling.
FROM the necessity of the esteem of others, have arisen single combats, and they have been established by the anarchy of the laws. They are thought to have been unknown to the ancients; perhaps because they did not assemble in their temples, in their theatres, or with their friends, suspiciously armed with swords; and, perhaps, because single combats were a common spectacle, exhibited to the people by gladiators, who were slaves, and whom freemen disdained to imitate.
In vain have the laws endeavoured to abolish this custom, by punishing the offenders with death. A man of honour, deprived of the esteem of others, foresees that he must be reduced, either to a solitary existence, insupportable to a social creature, or become the object of perpetual insult; ​considerations sufficient to overcome the fear of death.
What is the reason, that duels are not so frequent among the common people, as amongst the great? Not only because they do not wear swords, but because to men of that class reputation is of less importance than it is to those of a higher rank, who commonly regard each other with distrust and jealousy.
It may not be without its use to repeat here, what has been mentioned by other writers; viz. that the best method of preventing this crime is to punish the aggressor, that is, the person who gave occasion to the duel, and to acquit him, who, without any fault on his side, is obliged to defend that, which is not sufficiently secured to him by the laws.
# An Essay on Crimes and Punishments/Chapter VII

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​degrees, there is nothing to deter men from committing the greater, as often as it is attended with greater advantage.
CHAPTER VII.
Of estimating the Degree of Crimes.
THE foregoing reflections authorise me to assert, that crimes are only to be measured by the injury done to society.
They err, therefore, who imagine, that a crime is greater or less, according to the intention of the person by whom it is committed; for this will depend on the actual impression of objects on the senses, and on the previous disposition of the mind; both which will vary in different persons, and even in the same person at different times, according to the succession of ideas, passions, and circumstances. Upon that system, it would be necessary to form, not only a particular code for every individual, but a new penal law for every crime. Men, often with the best intention, do the greatest ​injury to society, and with the worst do it the most essential services.
Others have estimated crimes rather by the dignity of the person offended, than by their consequences to society. If this were the true standard, the smallest irreverence to the divine Being ought to be punished with infinitely more severity, than the assassination of a monarch.
In short, others have imagined, that the greatness of the sin should aggravate the crime. But the fallacy of this opinion will appear on the slightest consideration of the relations between man and man, and between God and man. The relations between man and man are relations of equality. Necessity alone hath produced, from the opposition of private passions and interests, the idea of public utility, which is the foundation of human justice. The other are relations of dependence, between an imperfect creature and his Creator, the most perfect of beings, who has reserved to himself the sole right of being both ​lawgiver and judge; for he alone can, without injustice, be, at the same time, both one and the other. If he hath decreed eternal punishments for those who disobey his will, shall an insect dare to put himself in the place of divine justice, or pretend to punish for the Almighty, who is himself all sufficient; who cannot receive impressions of pleasure, or pain, and who alone, of all other beings, acts without being acted upon? The degree of sin depends on the malignity of the heart, which is impenetrable to finite beings. How then can the degree of sin serve as a standard to determine the degree of crimes? If that were admitted, men may punish when God pardons, and pardon when God condemns; and thus act in opposition to the Supreme Being.
# An Essay on Crimes and Punishments/Chapter XI

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CHAPTER XI.
Of Crimes, which disturb the public Tranquillity.
ANOTHER class of crimes are those which disturb the public tranquillity and the quiet of the citizens; such as tumults and riots in the public streets, which are intended for commerce and the passage of the inhabitants; the discourses of fanatics, which rouse the passions of the curious multitude, and gain strength from the number of their hearers, who, though deaf to calm and solid reasoning, are always affected by obscure and mysterious enthusiasm.
The illumination of the streets, during the night, at the public expense; guards stationed in different quarters of the city; the plain and moral discourses of religion, reserved for the silence and tranquillity of churches, and protected by authority; and ​harangues in support of the interest of the public, delivered only at the general meetings of the nation, in parliament, or where the sovereign resides; are all means to prevent the dangerous effects of the misguided passions of the people. These should be the principal objects of the vigilance of a magistrate, and which the French call Police; but if this magistrate should act in an arbitrary manner, and not in conformity to the code of laws, which ought to be in the hands of every member of the community, he opens a door to tyranny, which always surrounds the confines of political liberty.
I do not know of any exception to this general axiom, that Every member of the society should know when he is criminal, and when innocent. If censors, and, in general, arbitrary magistrates, be necessary in any government, it proceeds from some fault in the constitution. The uncertainty of crimes hath sacrificed more victims to secret tyranny, than have ever suffered by public and solemn cruelty. ​What are, in general, the proper punishments for crimes? Is the punishment of death really useful, or necessary for the safety or good order of society? Are tortures and torments consistent with justice, or do they answer the end proposed by the laws? Which is the best method of preventing crimes? Are the same punishments equally useful at all times? What influence have they on manners? These problems should be solved with that geometrical precision, which the mist of sophistry, the seduction of eloquence, and the timidity of doubt, are unable to resist.
If I have no other merit than that of having first presented to my country, with a greater degree of evidence, what other nations have written, and are beginning to practise, I shall account myself fortunate; but if, by supporting the rights of mankind and of invincible truth, I shall contribute to save from the agonies of death one unfortunate victim of tyranny, or of ignorance, equally fatal; his blessing and tears of transport, will be a sufficient ​consolation to me for the contempt of all mankind.
# An Essay on Crimes and Punishments/Chapter XLI

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CHAP. XLI.
Of the Means of preventing Crimes.
IT is better to prevent crimes than to punish them. This is the fundamental principle of good legislation, which is the art of conducting men to the maximum of happiness, and to the minimum of misery, if we may apply this mathematical expression to the good and evil of life. But the means hitherto employed for that purpose, are generally inadequate, or contrary to the end proposed. It is impossible to reduce the tumultuous activity of mankind to absolute regularity; for, midst the various and opposite attractions of pleasure and pain, human laws are not sufficient entirely to prevent disorders in society. Such however is the chimera of weak men, when invested with authority. To prohibit a number of indifferent actions, is not to prevent the crimes which they may produce, but to create ​new ones; it is to change at will the ideas of virtue and vice, which, at other times, we are told, are eternal and immutable. To what a situation should we be reduced, if every thing were to be forbidden that might possibly lead to a crime? We must be deprived of the use of our senses. For one motive that induces a man to commit a real crime, there are a thousand which excite him to those indifferent actions, which are called crimes by bad laws. If, then, the probability that a crime will be committed be in proportion to the number of motives, to extend the sphere of crimes will be to increase that probability. The generality of laws are only exclusive privileges; the tribute of all to the advantage of a few.
WOULD you prevent crimes? Let the laws be clear and simple; let the entire force of the nation be united in their defence; let them be intended rather to favour every individual, than any particular classes of men; let the laws be feared, and the laws only. The fear of the laws ​is salutary, but the fear of men is a fruitful and fatal source of crimes. Men enslaved are more voluptuous, more debauched, and more cruel than those who are in a state of freedom. These study the sciences, the interest of nations, have great objects before their eyes, and imitate them; but those, whose views are confined to the present moment, endeavour, ’midst the distraction of riot, and debauchery, to forget their situation; accustomed to the uncertainty of all events, for the laws determine none, the consequences of their crimes become problematical, which gives an additional force to the strength of their passions.
In a nation, indolent from the nature of the climate, the uncertainty of the laws confirms and increases men’s indolence and stupidity. In a voluptuous, but active nation, this uncertainty occasions a multiplicity of cabals and intrigues, which spread distrust and diffidence through the hearts of all, and dissimulation and treachery are the foundation of their prudence. In a brave ​and powerful nation, this uncertainty of the laws is at last destroyed, after many oscillations from liberty to slavery, and from slavery to liberty again.