OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wade, Rev. George Woosung

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wade, Rev. George Woosung, 1s. Joseph Henry, of Shanghai, gent. Oriel Coll., matric. 14 Oct., 1878, aged 20; scholar 1878-83, B.A. 1882, M.A. 1885.
# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Melancholy Serenade XXII

MELANCHOLY SERENADE XXII
Naught brings such grievous pain As a flute with passionate strain, When in the rosy glow of eve The light of day doth wane.
'Mid trees the sound doth flow, In darkness lying low, Saying: "O ye dreams of youth, Ye fill my soul with woe!"
And it laments and sighs, In tender, moving wise, As my belovèd, softly breathing O'er my brow and eyes.
Hark! the rushes render, Accents dreamy, tender, And they quiver, as 'neath kisses Thy bosom in its splendour.
They flow in sorrow blent. Night is a flower; there went From out its bosom, spreading languor, A music-laden scent!
Naught brings such grievous pain As a flute with passionate strain, When in the rosy glow of eve The light of day doth wane.
"Music in the Soul" (1886).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Moravian Village

MORAVIAN VILLAGE
The huts like white-plumed birds in bevies stud The slope. The breeze with gentle breath scarce blows, And sluggish as Moravian blood The streamlet flows.
Upon their farms the peasants abide in content, Somewhere away in Vienna the good emperor's life is spent; Germans beneath the mountains and Jews in the cities throng.
In the black fields like a streak of pitch the rapeseed is laid, And in the meadow there delves a flaxen-haired maid; She knows that a bridegroom will come to fetch her ere long.
The lad of Moravia casts on his labour his gaze, 'Midst his toiling he scarce for the maid heaves a sigh; He knows that ere long a wife to the threshold will hie, And the marriage-feast will continue three nights and three days.
The burly peasant, ruddy and tanned, On the townsfolk looks down with a touch of pride;
None may hound him away from his land, But, But betwixt here and the Beskyds the gulf is wide.
"Songs of Silesia" (1911).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Music

​Karel Šelepa (b. 1885).
MUSIC
Lo, a sonata is a flower enchanted, That from a silver vase in Heaven blooms, In azure nights, amid deep slumber planted, When to the sky an opening easement looms.
A prelude is the mystic music played, By angels 'mid the trees when dusk is nigh, To those who girt by life and gloom have strayed, To those, who in the even homewards hie.
Andante is the sweetness of returning To the dim home, by apple-trees o'erspread; My mother in her resting-place; soft yearning From her dead lips and from her brow is shed.
"The Evening of the Soul" (1905).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/My Mother

​Otakar Březina (b. 1868).
MY MOTHER
Thro' life my mother, as in sad atonement, paced, Of fragrances, hues, blossoms, light, her day was bare; Dry is the fruit of life, and hath an ashen taste, That, unrefreshed, she from the tree of time did tear.
The biting dust of need her beauteous face assailed, Into her eyes it gnawed and quenched in tears its heat; In drifts like to the sand-storm on her path it trailed, Arched for her faintness in its billows a retreat.
Beneath the load of gloomy years her back she bent, The scorching heat of toil upon her freshness preyed. On death she placed her kiss; by grievous anguish rent, Smiling, with whispered words of thanks she answer made.
On marble dank of churches she knelt down adream, Amid the grave-yard taper scent, before the shrine; She poured a shower of fragrant comforts in a stream Within the chalice of her soul, as dew-drops shine.
O mother mine, to-day in lustre all aﬂame, Thou golden arrow, to the focus that did fly Of secrets ne'er at rest! The cadence of thy name Upon our waves ceased quailing, but I know thee nigh!
I am the blossom of thy blood, grown chill and dead, That budded from the moisture of thine eyes, and grew, Upon my lips thy life's sharp savour thou didst shed, And from thy childhood sadness to my soul withdrew.
And when 'mid nightly calm, green midnight shimmers clear, Thou risest from the grave, and with my couch art blent, And in my breath, the rhythm of thy breath I hear, And quickened by my voice's wave, thou dost lament.
Into my veins the warmth is from thy frame delivered, The gloomy lustre of thine eyes in mine is poured; The mystic heat of faith, 'neath which thy spirit quivered, Into my soul in glowing, blood-red fire has soared.
And mine is now the gloomy path where once thou paced, Of fragrances, hues, blossoms, light, my day is bare;
Dry is the fruit of life, and hath an ashen taste, That 'mid thy shade's breath from the tree of Time I tear.
"The Mystic Distances" (1895).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Nature

NATURE
Hidden springs were playing music and my day its song thereto was chanting, On the melancholy shores. The grief of bygone life, from whence I came was wafted to me from the fragrance, And from the converse of the trees and from the heavy drone of insects o'er the waters, And there lay whole centuries, betwixt my hands, that blossoms plucked, and them Betwixt my countenance and a mystic world, That in a thousand questioning glances in my spirit mutely gazed.
The clouds grew dim as sank the sun, and of the winds my spirit asked, Are the clouds approaching hither, or are they departing hence? The winds were mute, in a submissive mirror on themselves the waters looked, And the stars, like waning fires in frigid waves of gleaming oceans, Seethed and murmured over me, invisible:
Their light is dying only at the advent of a light still greater, Of a light still greater, greater.
"The Winds from the Poles"
(1897).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Moravian Landscape

MORAVIAN LANDSCAPE
The dust trails on the lonely road, In heavy accents crenks the dray; The black-maned horses drag their load, At tardy pace upon their way.
Upon the white, unending track, The drowsy carrier casts his gaze; Miles lie before and miles lie back, Tree and post are steeped in haze.
Poplar after poplar straying, Pear-tree, apple-tree, and plane; Summer-heat o'er meadow playing, The corn-field rustles, rich in grain.
Strings of the mighty lyre to hear, The quivering air upon them floats; As in the country far and near, From other worlds were borne their notes.
Is any nigh, their song to heed? The carrier nods, in calm and peace; 'Mid sweltering heat the shoots bear seed— Can ought here from its slumber cease?
"A Vintage" (1911).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/My Deity

​Otakar Auředníček (b. 1868).
MY DEITY
(To Sessan.)
I would before thy bosom's shrine sink low, Quaff from thy mouth the cup of blissful wine, Bear to my lips thine offering divine; Thine eyes are as my lamp's eternal glow.
Amid thy beauty's temple I would fare, The incense fragrance 'mid thy breath abides; Like night, that all in starry splendour hides, Let fall on me thy dark, luxuriant hair.
Thy body where in passion I lament, That shields the mighty godhead of thy soul, A temple, marble, white, doth seem to me.
Like a fanatic I my head have bent Upon thy lap, distraught with love's wild dole, For thee, my yearning, thee, my deity!
"The Singing Swans" (1891).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/When years have passed shall I still bewail thee

​Stanislav Karel Neumann (b. 1875).
WHEN YEARS HAVE PASSED SHALL I STILL BEWAIL THEE
"Else"
Young and of subtle charm thou wert slain By worthy fathers Weary of virtuous spouses, And their sons Taking their fill of the world.
In the white passage of the lazar-house Vanished thy body; None clamoured: "Murderers!" 'Mid their tranquil enjoyment.
When years have passed shall I still bewail thee! Thou hadst a lustrous eye, and tresses of dusky azure, And blood that in part was derived from barbarian Huns. When years have passed shall I still bewail thee! But not because it was here denied thee To find the hearth of some fat-paunched boor, That thou might'st bear to him children, laughing, thriving.
Rather abiding longer within this haunt of the devil would I behold thee, Avenging thyself, yea, direly avenging thyself, With the venom of thine embrace avenging thyself,
Even upon their children’s children avenging thyself, For thee and for thy sisters, For us and for our brothers, And for all the stock of the disinherited children of Satan avenging thyself Upon the protected caste Of God-fearing, privileged Citizens.
"Apostrophes Proud and Passionate" (1896).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Who will take my place?

WHO WILL TAKE MY PLACE?
So scant is my blood, and now from my mouth It ﬂows. When there grows Above me the grass, when my body decays, Who in my stead, Who will my scutcheon upraise?
Night gazed from my eyes, and the flame from my nostrils trailed; I stood, in the smoke of the Witkowitz furnaces veiled, And whether the sun was aglow or the evening was falling fast, I with a frown on my brow my gaze on the murderers cast; They were the wealthy Jews and the counts of a high-born line, A gloomy-faced miner was I, as I sprang from below in the mine. And though on their temples a diadem scattered its rays, Each of them flinched as he met my gaze, My clenched list, and my stubborn scorn, The wrath of the miner who up on the Beskyds was born. So scant is my blood, and now from my mouth It flows. When there grows Above me the grass, when my body decays, Who will relieve me on guard? Who will my scutcheon upraise?
"Songs of Silesia" (1911).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Winter Evening

​Karel V. Rais (b. 1859).
WINTER EVENING
The heath lies far and wide bestrewn with snow, From the full moon there falls a gentle glow.
Amid the white expanse of snow-clad plains Only a naked pear-tree trunk remains.
In the white gardens, by the valley’s side, Huddled in sleep our tiny homes abide.
In the small easements not a spark is gleaming, The wearied people lie serenely dreaming.
O'er snowy plain the air doth gently sweep— The Cheskian country breathes it in, how deep
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Yearning in Early Spring

​Karel Červinka (b 1872).
YEARNING IN EARLY SPRING
After long years sweet feeling came to me, Thy locks I fondled tenderly; O little child, I took thee to my breast, And lulled thee peacefully to rest.
Eve, eve already to the room draws nigh, The white mists o'er the housetops lie; The waning, waning day is softly quenched, The bells their music in the mist have drenched.
Thou sleepest, child. I stood afar, Gently, that I thy slumber might not mar, Went to the easement, silent gloom beheld.
Grey evening! Woe without an end! My heart it stirred and bloodily did rend, And in my eyes the tear-drops welled.
"The Sun in the Mists" (1901).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Two Treasures

​Quido Maria Vyskočil (b. 1881).
TWO TREASURES
(Theme from the Foundry)
Now comes the moment, when out of the furnace the silver flows, And the whole foundry quivers beneath one flaming stream; The shadows of swarthy shoulders dance on the surface that glows. The silent throng of the toilers tarries hard by, Flitting with eyes that are dazzled amid the silvery gleam. And the young toiler who now for the first time of all is aware, Of the village that brought him forth he of a sudden thinks, Remembering on the way how many the poor that are there, Yonder amid the nearness and gleam of the silver. 'Tis peaceful. The road slips by! In the arms of dusk the day sinks. In a wondrous dream of a sudden, his soul in the gloom shines clear, And to the eternal Ionging within him is wafted lightness. Lo, his young wife bids him welcome and sheds a joyful tear,
And the toiler but wonders, wonders; A tear of love here, in the foundry the silver: one stream and one brightness.
"A Golden Plough Upon the Field" (1905).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Woe of Man

WOE OF MAN
We, 'neath the spell of a hostile power are by faintness assailed, Its evil relentless face in the eyes of the sun is aglow; The instrument of thy labour was cast from our hands as they quailed, On a boulder amid the quarries we sat us down in our woe.
We wiped the sweat from our brows, with Death we were speaking.Amid A motionless heaven aglow, 'mid ironical glinting of ore, And e'en as a child lays its head in its mother's lap, so we hid Our weary thoughts in creation's grief that endures evermore.
And then in our own magic power, the mystery of our birth, In the guerdon of our renown that is hidden, our sorrows we found;
Princes, who in a conquering ruler's gold bearing earth, Were lettered fast and by guards invisible compassed around.
When they think of their cities that over the lakes es have grown, Of the stars in the mystical light of dusk of their native sky, And in their captivity’s calm, of bells with a thousand-fold tone, And of trusty multitudes, who at a crowning exultingly cry.
"The Hands" (1901).
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Women

WOMEN
What sings evening o'er the kingdoms, over towns and seed-strewn ground, O'er the paths in mystery shrouded, o'er the dusk when dews abound? Whose the hands in Western gardens, when 'neath heaven their glow they pour, Pluck you roses as in welcome when a thousand years are o'er.
When ye come, from toiling weary, when love's day has reached its end, Black earth's breath, like the foreboding of the future doth ascend, And the mighty towns of brothers on the golden sky-line tower, A dream of metals, gleaming gardens, living rhythms, marble power.
And in suns that far off vanish, and are quenched and once more beam, White extended hands of women like a lustre are agleam, And from age to age they lure you, from before your gaze disperse, With their beauty's silent gesture, they like fate, unknown, converse.
Potent, lustrous hands, our longing whither do ye bear away? Into what awakened gardens, that bewitched for ages lay? Into what calm places, where, 'mid grief of mighty pomp awakes Melody of polar birds above the melancholy lakes.
Clouds of thoughts like islands rise aloft within the sea of light, All bedecked with phosphorescent vegetation lunar-bright, And the tremor of our hearts is on the shores the wafted strains, Ere the anchored vessels cast aside their silver mooring-chains.
Faces, steeped in love, o'er ocean to the silent country flow, Where a range of spirit worlds like flaming fires tower up and glow,
And like branches that together are entwined, the boundless skies Quiver in the morning beams that from the cosmic forest rise.
"The Hands."
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# An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry/Upon the Waves

​Josef Holý (b. 1874).
UPON THE WAVES
Upon the waves I was lulled to rest; To the silvery willow-trees I confessed.
The wavelets whisper, the willows are singing, With ditties and wistful voices ringing.
The bright heavens o'er me wide open are lying, The stars in a secret language are sighing.
Memories mock me; by sleep awhile stilled, My heart with a winsome longing is thrilled.
Little child, full of grace, thy favour bestow, On a peaceful stream we together shall flow.
(1905).
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# An Antidote Against Atheism/Appendix/Chapter I

An
Appendix
To the foregoing
Antidote
against
Atheism.
Chap. I.
1. The Author's reason of adding this Appendix to his Antidote. 2. An Enumeration of the chief Objections made against the First Book, thereof.
1.uspected Innocency and misdoubted Truth can win no greater credit then by strictest examination: For the world is thereby more fully ascertain'd of the unblameableness of the one and of the solidity of the other, then it can be possibly without so publick a Trial. Wherefore that so great an advantage may not be wanting to that weighty Cause we have in hand, I was not contented onely to set down such Reasons for the Existence of God which in my own judgement I conceiv'd to be irrefutably firm; but that the firmness of them may appear more conspicuous to all men, I have brought into view the chiefest and most material Objections I could meet with, whether raised by those that of themselves have excepted against any Argument I have made use of, or by such as have been invited more curiously to search and discover, where they could, any weakness or inconsequency in any Argumentation throughout the whole Treatise. And the chiefest Exceptions and Objections against the First Book are these:
2. First, That the Ground of our Demonstration of the Existence of God from his Idea is, That there ate Innate Ideas in the Mind of Man; which, say they, is false.
Secondly, That there is no such Idea of God at all as we have describ'd, ​neither Innate nor Acquisititious or Transcriptitious; because it involves in it the Notion of a Spirit, which again consists of such particular Notions as are utterly unconceivable.
Thirdly, That Existence is no Term of Perfection, and therefore is not so inseparably involved in the Notion of a Being absolutely Perfect, or of God.
Fourthly, That though Necessary Existence be included in the Idea of God, yet our inferring from thence that he does exist, is but a Sophism; because a Being absolutely Evil, as well as absolutely Perfect, includes necessary Existence in the Idea thereof.
Fifthly, That if there be any necessary Existent, it is plain that it is Matter, which we unadvisedly call Space, which we cannot imagine but did ever and will ever necessarily exist.
Sixthly, That God did not put this Idea of himself into the Mind of Man, but the subtiler sort of Politicians, that have alwaies used Religion as a mere Engine of State.
Seventhly, That Fear and Hopes of Natural Conscience are nothing indeed but these Passions rais'd upon a belief of a God which men have had by Tradition or Education.
Lastly, That these Arguments whereby we prove the Incorporeity of the Soul of Man, will also conclude the Incorporeity of the Soul of a Beast; and that therefore they are Sophistical.
To these I shall answer in order with as little Pomp and Luxuriancy of words, and as much Plainness and Perspicuity, as I may, in so subtile and difficult a matter.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, Rev. Edward Lewis

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, Rev. Edward Lewis, 3s. Francis, of Cubbington, co. Warwick, gent. St. Alban Hall, matric. 3 May, 1867, aged 20; B.A. & M.A. 1875.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, Hurrell Champion

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, Hurrell Champion, 3s. John Robert, of Exmouth, Devon, gent. Worcester Coll., matric. 14 May, 1857, aged 20; brother of John R.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, John (1)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, John, s. Henry, of Oxford, gent. Brasenose Coll., matric. 3 April, 1718, aged 15; B.A. 1721; M.A. 1728.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, Matthew (2)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, Matthew, s. Matthew, of Leamington Priors, co. Warwick, arm. Trinity Coll., matric. 31 May 1786, aged 18; high sheriff Warwickshire, died 1 June, 1825, father of the next named.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, John (3)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, John, 2s. John, of Lillington, co. Warwick, cler. Wadham Coll., matric. 28 March, 1827, aged 18; B.A. 1830, M.A. 1850, vicar of Lillington 1833-74, died 29 June, 1877. See Rugby School Reg., 147.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, Matthew (3)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, Matthew, o.s. Matthew, of St. Stephen's, Ipswich, Suffolk, arm. Christ Church, matric. 29 May, 1820, aged 17; B.A. 1824, of Shrublands, Leamington, J.P., D.L. co. Warwick, died 25 Sep., 1864, father of Charles John.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, John (2)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, John, s. Matthew, of Leamington Priors, co. Warwick, arm. Trinity Coll., matric. 30 June, 1788, aged 17; B.A. 1792, M.A. 1796, vicar of Leamington Priors, and rector of Lillington and Frankton, co. Warwick, 1795, vicar of Marton 1805, until his death in 1830, father of the next named, and brother of Matthew 1786.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, John Richard de Capel

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, John Richard de Capel, 1s. John Robert, of St. George's, Hanover Square, London, arm. Lincoln Coll., matric. 15 March, 1849, aged 18; brother of Hurrell C.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, Matthew (1)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, Matthew, s. Henry, of Brompton, Middlesex, arm. Trinity Coll., matric. 19 Sep., 1721, aged 18.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Wise, Matthew (Blackett)

From volume 4 of the work.
​Wise, Matthew (Blackett), s. Henry Christopher, of London, arm. Trinity Coll., matric. 10 Feb., 1785, aged 17; high sheriff Warwickshire 1807, died 3 Dec., 1810, brother of Henry 1791.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Walker, Reginald Edmund

From volume 4 of the work.
​Walker, Reginald Edmund, 2s. Sir James Robert, of Foston Hall, Yorks, baronet. Christ Church, matric. 16 Oct., 1885, aged 19. See Foster's Baronetage & Eton School Lists.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Walker, Rev. Clement Francis

From volume 4 of the work.
​Walker, Rev. Clement Francis, 2s. George, of Whitechapel, London, gent. Magdalen Hall, matric. 16 Oct., 1861, aged 18; B.A. 1867, M.A. 1872, headmaster St. Ninian's School, Perth, 1876-80. See St. Paul's School Reg., 329.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Walker, Rev. Frederick John

From volume 4 of the work.
​Walker, Rev. Frederick John, of Magdalen Coll., Cambridge (B.A. 1846, M.A. 1849); adm. 'ad eundem' 10 May, 1850.
# Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1715-1886/Walker, Rev. Edward Mewburn

From volume 4 of the work.
​Walker, Rev. Edward Mewburn, 4s. Thomas, of Hampstead, Middlesex, gent. Queen's Coll., matric. 26 Oct., 1876, aged 18; exhibitioner 1876-80, B.A. 1880, fellow 1881, M.A. 1883, lecturer, tutor, and assistant-librarian 1885.