OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Triumphs of Eugène Valmont

A parody on the detective stories of the period. These include 8 short stories, broken up into 24 chapters to make it novel-like, for the US readers. (The original, "UK" edition, which can be found in PG, has 8 stories/chapters.) The stories include two of the earliest parodies of Sherlock Holmes, whose author was his contemporary and friend.
"Selected a little iron crucifix ... the work of some ancient craftsman."
The TRIUMPHS of EUGÈNE VALMONT
By ROBERT BARR
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK 1906

## Contents

CHAP.
* The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred
* The Scene in the Sale Room
* The Midnight Race Down the Seine
* The Oddities of the English
* The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
* A Rebuff and a Response
* In the Grip of the Green Demon
* The Fate of the Picric Bomb
* The Dinner for Seven in the Temple
* The Clew of the Silver Spoons
* "O My Prophetic soul, My Uncle!"
* Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
* The Futility of a Search Warrant
* Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard
* The Strange House in Park Lane
* The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road
* The Absent-minded Coterie
* The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks
* A Commission from Lord Rantremly
* The Ghost with the Clubfoot
* The Secret of a Noble House
* Liberating the Wrong Man
* The Fascinating Lady Alicia
* Where the Emeralds were Found
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
# The Strand Magazine/Volume 12/Adventures of a Man of Science

Extracted from Strand Magazine, v12, 1896, pp. 57-68; 169-181; 259-272; 401-414; 529-541; 664-677; and v13, 1897, pp. 03-13, 185-197. Accompanying illustrations may be added later.
The Adventures of a Man of Science.
By L. T. Meade and Clifford Halifax, M.D.
We have taken down these stories from time to time as our friend. Paul Gilchrist, has related them to us. He is a man whose life study has been science in its most interesting forms—he is also a keen observer of human nature and a noted traveller. He has an unbounded sympathy for his kind, and it has been his lot to be consulted on many occasions by all sorts and conditions of men.
* [Volume 12, 1896]
* I. The Snake's Eye
* II. Ought He To Marry Her?
* III. Lady Tregenna
* IV. The Sleeping Sickness
* V. At the Steps of the Altar
* VI. The Panelled Bedroom
* [Volume 13, 1897]
* VII. A Race With the Sun
* VIII. The Man Who Smiled
Copyright, 1896, by L. T. Meade, in the United States of America
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
# The Works of Francis Bacon/Volume 1/Essays/Of Adversity

V. OF ADVERSITY.
It was a high speech of Seneca, (after the manner of the Stoics,) that the good things which helong to prosperity are to be wished, but the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired: "Bona rerum secundarum optabilia, adversarum mirabilia." Certainly, if miracles be the command over nature, they appear most adversity. It is yet a higher speech of his than the other, (much too high for a heathen.) "It is true greatness to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security of a God:"—"Vere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei." This would have done better in poesy, where transcendencies are more allowed; and the poets, indeed, have been busy with it; for it is in effect the thing which is figured in that strange fiction of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the state of a Christian, "that Hercules, when he went to unbind Prometheus, (by whom human nature is represented,) sailed the length of the great ocean in an earthen pot or pitcher, lively describing Christian resolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh through the waves of the world." But to speak in a mean, the virtue of prosperity is temperance, the virtue of adversity is fortitude, which in morals is the more hercical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament, adversity is the blessing of the New, which carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favour. Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath laboured more in describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and embroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground: judge, therefore, of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.
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
# The Works of Francis Bacon/Volume 1/Essays/Of Beauty

XLIII. OF BEAUTY.
Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that hath rather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect; neither is it almost seen, that very beautiful ​persons are otherwise of great virtue; as if nature were rather busy not to err, than in labour to produce excellency; and therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great spirit; and study rather behaviour, than virtue. But this holds not always: for Augustus Cæsar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Belle of France, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael, the sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits, and yet the most beautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favour, is more than that of colour; and that of decent and gracious motion, more than that of favour. That is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot express; no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether Apelles or Albert Durer were the more trifler; whereof the one would make a personage by geometrical proportions: the other by taking the best parts out of divers faces, to make one excellent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody but the painter that made them: not but I think a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do it by a kind of felicity, (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in music,) and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that, if you examine them part by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well. If it be true, that the principal part of beauty, is in decent motion, certainly it is no marvel, though persons in years seem many times more amiable; "pulchrorum autumnus pulcher;" for no youth can be comely but by pardon, and considering the youth as to make up the comeliness. Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last; and, for the most part, it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of countenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtues shine, and vices blush.
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
# The Swiss Family Robinson

English-language translations of Der Schweizerische Robinson include:
* The Swiss Family Robinson, edited by William Godwin, translated by Mary Jane (Clairmont) Godwin (1816)
* The Swiss Family Robinson, edited by William Henry Giles Kingston, translated by Agnes Kinloch Kingston (1891)
* The Swiss Family Robinson, In Words of One Syllable, edited by Lucy Aikin, unknown translator (1869)
* The Swiss Family Robinson, unknown translator (1851)
* The Swiss Family Robinson, translated by Mrs. H. B. Paull (1879)
# The Swiss Family Robinson, In Words of One Syllable

* related portals: Children's literature.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
Storyline derived from The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss.
Layout 2
The Tub-Raft, leaving the Ship.
THE
SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON,
IN
WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.
ABRIDGED AND ADAPTED FROM THE ORIGINAL STORY BY
I. F. M.,
AUTHOR OF "THE BOY'S FIRST READER," "THE GIRL'S FIRST READER," "QUEER CHARACTERS," ETC.
WITH COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS.
NEW YORK.
McLOUGHLIN BROS., PUBLISHERS.
PREFACE.
THE kind reception given to the system of writing in words of one syllable has encouraged the Author to add the popular story of "The Swiss Family Robinson" as a twin book to "Robinson Crusoe." The monosyllablic rule has been strictly adhered to throughout, the only exception occurring necessarily in the title of the book itself. The Author's object has been to provide "a field of exercise for a child who has just learnt to conquer words; and it is a great point in all teaching to let the first independent exercise be one in which victory is really to be won by moderate effort."
Chapter I. Chapter II. Chapter III. Chapter IV. Chapter V. Chapter VI. Chapter VII. Chapter VIII. Chapter IX Chapter X. Chapter XI. Chapter XII. Chapter XIII. Chapter XIV. Chapter XV.
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
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Imitation of Tibullus

IMITATION OF TIBULLUS.
SULPICIA AD CERINTHUM (LIB. QUART.).
Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell disease Which racks my breast your fickle bosom please? Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain, That I might live for Love and you again; But, now, I scarcely shall bewail my fate: By Death alone I can avoid your hate.
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog

INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.
When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe And storied urns record who rest below: When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been: ​But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still his master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth— Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth: While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven. Oh Man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power, Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Degraded mass of animated dust! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit! By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on—it honours none you wish to mourn: To mark a Friend's remains these stones arise; I never knew but one,—and here he lies.
Newstead Abbey, October 30, 1808. [First published, 1809.]
* ↑ [This monument is placed in the garden of Newstead. A prose inscription precedes the verses:— "Near this spot Are deposited the Remains of one Who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices. This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery If inscribed over human ashes, Is but a just tribute to the Memory of BOATSWAIN, a Dog, Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808." Byron thus announced the death of his favourite to his friend Hodgson:—"Boatswain is dead!—he expired in a state of madness on the 18th after suffering much, yet retaining all the gentleness of his nature to the last; never attempting to do the least injury to any one near him. I have now lost everything except old Murray." In the will which the poet executed in 1811, he desired to be buried in the vault with his dog, and Joe Murray was to have the honour of making one of the party. When the poet was on his travels, a gentleman, to whom Murray showed the tomb, said, "Well, old boy, you will take your place here some twenty years hence." "I don't know that, sir," replied Joe; "if I was sure his lordship would come here I should like it well enough, but I should not like to lie alone with the dog."—Life, pp. 73, 131.]
* ↑ I knew bnt one unchang'd—and here he lies.—[Imit. and Transl., p. 191.]
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Lines Addressed to the Rev. J. T. Becher

LINES.
ADDRESSED TO THE REV. J. T. BECHER, ON HIS ADVISING THE AUTHOR TO MIX MORE WITH SOCIETY.
1.
Dear Becher, you tell me to mix with mankind; I cannot deny such a precept is wise; But retirement accords with the tone of my mind: I will not descend to a world I despise.
2.
Did the Senate or Camp my exertions require, Ambition might prompt me, at once, to go forth; When Infancy's years of probation expire, Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.
3.
The fire, in the cavern of Etna, conceal'd, Still mantles unseen in its secret recess; At length, in a volume terrific, reveal'd, No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.
4.
Oh! thus, the desire, in my bosom, for fame Bids me live, but to hope for Posterity's praise. Could I soar with the Phœnix on pinions of flame, With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.
5.
For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death, What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave! Their lives did not end, when they yielded their breath, Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave.
6.
Yet why should I mingle in Fashion's full herd? Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules? Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd? Why search for delight, in the friendship of fools?
7.
I have tasted the sweets, and the bitters, of love, In friendship I early was taught to believe; My passion the matrons of prudence reprove, I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.
8.
To me what is wealth?—it may pass in an hour, If Tyrants prevail, or if Fortune should frown: To me what is title?—the phantom of power; To me what is fashion?—I seek but renown.
9.
Deceit is a stranger, as yet, to my soul; I, still, am unpractised to varnish the truth: Then, why should I live in a hateful controul? Why waste, upon folly, the days of my youth?
1806.
* ↑ To the Rev. J. T. Becher.—[P. on V. Occasions.]
* ↑ [The Rev. John Thomas Becher (1770-1848) was Vicar of Rympton and Midsomer Norton, Somers., and made the acquaintance of Byron when in residence at Southwell. To him was submitted an early copy of the Quarto, and on his remonstrance at the tone of some of the verses, the whole edition (save one or two copies) was burnt. Becher assisted in the revision of P. on V. Occasions, published in 1807. He was in 1818 appointed Prebendary of Southwell, and, all his life, took an active interest and prominent part in the administration of the poor laws and the welfare of the poor. (See Byron's letters to him of February 26 and March 28, 1808.)]
* ↑ Oh! such the desire.—[P. on V. Occasions.]
* ↑ —— the gloom of the grave.—[P. on V. Occasions.]
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/I would I were a Careless Child

I WOULD I WERE A CARELESS CHILD.
1.
I would I were a careless child, Still dwelling in my Highland cave, Or roaming through the dusky wild, Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave; The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride, Accords not with the freeborn soul, Which loves the mountain's craggy side, And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
2.
Fortune! take back these cultur'd lands, Take back this name of splendid sound! I hate the touch of servile hands, I hate the slaves that cringe around: Place me among the rocks I love, Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar; I ask but this—again to rove Through scenes my youth hath known before.
3.
Few are my years, and yet I feel The World was ne'er design'd for me: Ah! why do dark'ning shades conceal The hour when man must cease to be? Once I beheld a splendid dream, A visionary scene of bliss; Truth!—wherefore did thy hated beam Awake me to a world like this?
4.
I lov'd—but those I lov'd are gone; Had friends—my early friends are fled: How cheerless feels the heart alone, When all its former hopes are dead! Though gay companions, o'er the bowl Dispel awhile the sense of ill; Though Pleasure stirs the maddening soul, The heart—the heart—is lonely still.
5.
How dull! to hear the voice of those Whom Rank or Chance, whom Wealth or Power, Have made, though neither friends nor foes, Associates of the festive hour. Give me again a faithful few, In years and feelings still the same, And I will fly the midnight crew, Where boist'rous Joy is but a name.
6.
And Woman, lovely Woman! thou, My hope, my comforter, my all! How cold must be my bosom now, When e'en thy smiles begin to pall! Without a sigh would I resign, This busy scene of splendid Woe, To make that calm contentment mine, Which Virtue knows, or seems to know.
7.
Fain would I fly the haunts of men— I seek to shun, not hate mankind; ​My breast requires the sullen glen, Whose gloom may suit a darken'd mind. Oh! that to me the wings were given, Which bear the turtle to her nest! Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven, To flee away, and be at rest.
* ↑ Stanzas.—[Poems O. and T.]
* ↑ Sassenach, or Saxon, a Gaelic word, signifying either Lowland or English.
* ↑ [Shyness was a family characteristic of the Byrons. The poet continued in later years to have a horror of being observed by unaccustomed eyes, and in the country would, if possible, avoid meeting strangers on the road.]
* ↑ "And I said, O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away, and be at rest."—Psalm lv. 6. This verse also constitutes a part of the most beautiful anthem in our language.
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Imitated from Catullus

IMITATED FROM CATULLUS.
TO ELLEN.
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire; ​Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss and cling to thee: Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, Still would we kiss and kiss for ever; E'en though the numbers did exceed The yellow harvest's countless seed; To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist?—ah! never—never.
November 16, 1806.
* ↑ [From a note in Byron's copy of Catullus (now in the possession of Mr. Murray), it is evident that these lines are based on Carm. xlviii., Mellitos oculos tuos, Juventi.]
* ↑ To Anna.—[4to]
* ↑ E'en though the number.—[4to. Three first Editions.]
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Lines Addressed to a Young Lady

LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.
[as the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them, to one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.]
I.
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead, Wafting destruction o'er thy charms And hurtling o'er thy lovely head, Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms.
2.
Surely some envious Demon's force, Vex'd to behold such beauty here, Impell'd the bullet's viewless course, Diverted from its first career.
3.
Yes! in that nearly fatal hour, The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power, In pity turn'd the death aside.
4.
Yet, as perchance one trembling tear Upon that thrilling bosom fell; Which I, th' unconscious cause of fear, Extracted from its glistening cell;—
5.
Say, what dire penance can atone For such an outrage, done to thee? Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne, What punishment wilt thou decree?
6.
Might I perform the Judge's part, The sentence I should scarce deplore; It only would restore a heart, Which but belong'd to thee before.
7.
The least atonement I can make Is to become no longer free; Henceforth, I breathe but for thy sake, Thou shalt be all in all to me.
8.
But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject Such expiation of my guilt; Come then—some other mode elect? Let it be death—or what thou wilt.
9.
Choose, then, relentless! and I swear Nought shall thy dread decree prevent; Yet hold—one little word forbear! Let it be aught but banishment.
* ↑ [This title first appeared in "Contents" to P. on V. Occasions.]
* ↑ [The occurrence took place at Southwell, and the beautiful lady to whom the lines were addressed was Miss Houson, who is also commemorated in the verses "To a Vain Lady" and "To Anne." She was the daughter of the Rev. Henry Houson of Southwell, and married the Rev. Luke Jackson. She died on Christmas Day, 1821, and her monument may be seen in Hucknall Torkard Church.]
* ↑ —— near thy charms.—[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]
* ↑ This word is used by Gray in his poem to the Fatal Sisters:— "Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air."
# The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Lines Inscribed upon a Cup Formed from a Skull

LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL.
1.
Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull, From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull.
2.
I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee: I died: let earth my bones resign; Fill up—thou canst not injure me; The worm hath fouler lips than thine.
3.
Better to hold the sparkling grape, Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood; And circle in the goblet's shape The drink of Gods, than reptile's food.
Mary Chaworth.
4.
Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone, In aid of others' let me shine; And when, alas! our brains are gone, What nobler substitute than wine?
5.
Quaif while thou canst: another race, When thou and thine, like me, are sped, May rescue thee from earth's embrace, And rhyme and revel with the dead.
6.
Why not? since through life's little day Our heads such sad effects produce; Redeem'd from worms and wasting clay, This chance is theirs, to be of use.
Newstead Abbey, 1808. [First published in the seventh edition of Childe Harold.]