OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The American Review: A Whig Journal of Politics, Literature, Art, and Science/Volume 06

THE
AMERICAN REVIEW;
A WHIG JOURNAL
DEVOTED TO
POLITICS, LITERATURE, ART AND SCIENCE.
"To stand by the Constitution."
VOL. VI.
Pulchrum est bene facere Reipublicæ, etiam bene dicere haud absurdum est.
NEW-YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. WILEY AND PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT ST., LONDON.
1847.
HON. GEO. EVANS,
U.S. SENATOR FROM MAINE
Engraved for the American Review
Printed by Powell
THE
AMERICAN REVIEW.
Contents for July.
NEW YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. LONDON: WILEY & PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT STREET.
THE
AMERICAN REVIEW.
Contents for August.
NEW YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. LONDON: WILEY & PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT STREET.
THE
AMERICAN REVIEW.
Contents for September.
NEW YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. LONDON: WILEY & PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT STREET.
THE
AMERICAN REVIEW.
Contents for October.
NEW YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. LONDON: WILEY & PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT STREET.
THE
AMERICAN REVIEW.
Contents for November.
NEW YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. LONDON: WILEY & PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT STREET.
THE
AMERICAN REVIEW.
Contents for December.
NEW YORK: GEORGE H. COLTON, 118 NASSAU STREET. LONDON: WILEY & PUTNAM, 6 WATERLOO PLACE, REGENT STREET.
# The American Slave Trade (Spears)

Contents
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The American Slave Trade (Spears)/Appendix A

Contents
# The American Review: A Whig Journal of Politics, Literature, Art, and Science/Volume 02/July 1845/Eulalie

From The American Review: A Whig Journal of Politics, Literature, Art, and Science, Volume 2, No.1, July 1845
EULALIE.— A SONG.
BY EDGAR A. POE.
I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride— Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
Ah, less—less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl, And never a flake That the vapor can make With the morn-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl— Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl.
Now Doubt—now Pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh, While all day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarté within the sky, And ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye— And ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
# The Chronicle of Henry of Huntingdon

BOHN'S ANTIQUARIAN LIBRARY.
HENRY OF HUNTINGDON.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER, ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET.
THE
CHRONICLE
OF
HENRY OF HUNTINGDON,
COMPRISING
THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, FROM THE INVASION OF JULIUS CÆSAR TO THE ACCESSION OF HENRY II.
ALSO,
THE ACTS OF STEPHEN,
KING OF ENGLAND AND DUKE OF NORMANDY.
TRANSLATED AND EDITED By THOMAS FORESTER, A.M., AUTHOR OF "NORWAY IN 1848 and 1849," ETC., ETC.
LONDON: HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. MDCCCLIII.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
DESCRIPTION OF THE FRONTISPIECE.
The plate is copied from a pen-and-ink drawing in the margin of a MS. of Huntingdon's History, in the British Museum, of the fourteenth century. One of King Stephen's barons, Baldwin Fitz-Gilbert, appears in the act of addressing the royal army before the battle of Lincoln, the issue of which was so disastrous to Stephen's fortunes, he having been taken prisoner on the field. Baldwin is standing on a hillock, according to the history, and leaning on his battle-axe. The army is represented by its leaders—knights in chain armour—among whom we discover, by the device on his shield, one of the powerful family of De Clare, to which Baldwin belonged. Stephen himself, distinguished by the diadem encircling his helmet, stands in front of the group, listening to the address which, we are told, he deputed Baldwin to make, because his own voice was not sufficiently powerful. An attendant has dismounted, and is holding his horse.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Chronicle of Henry of Huntingdon/History of the English

HENRY OF HUNTINGDON'S
HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH.
* Book 1
* Book 2
* Book 3
* Book 4
* Book 5
* Book 6
* Book 7
* Book 8
# The Chronicles of Addington Peace

London & New York: Harper & Brothers, 1905. Pages 240 & 241 (Mr. Coran's Election) are missing in the scan. No alternate source could be found.
THE CHRONICLES OF ADDINGTON PEACE
BY
B. FLETCHER ROBINSON
LONDON and NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS 45, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1905

### CONTENTS

* I. The Story of Amaroff the Pole 1
* II. The Terror in the Snow 47
* III. Mr. Taubery's Diamond 89
* IV. The Mystery of the Causeway 125
* V. The Tragedy of Thomas Hearne 157
* VI. The Vanished Millionaire 195
* VII. Mr. Coran's Election 229
* VIII. The Mystery of the Jade Spear 265
* advertisements
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Phyllis

PHYLLIS
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,  Few are my years, but my griefs are not few, Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,  Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew— Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!  Only the cloud hangeth over my life. Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday  Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife; Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,  Life must be lived as our destinies rule; Leisure or labor or work day or play day—  Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool; Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Poor Withered Rose

POOR WITHERED ROSE
A Song
Poor withered rose, she gave it me, Half in revenge and half in glee; Its petals not so pink by half As are her lips when curled to laugh, As are her cheeks when dimples gay In merry mischief o'er them play.
 Chorus
 Forgive, forgive, it seems unkind  To cast thy petals to the wind;  But it is right, and lest I err  So scatter I all thought of her.
Poor withered rose, so like my heart, That wilts at sorrow's cruel dart. Who hath not felt the winter's blight When every hope seemed warm and bright? Who doth not know love unreturned, E'en when the heart most wildly burned?
Poor withered rose, thou liest dead; Too soon thy beauty's bloom hath fled. 'Tis not without a tearful ruth I watch decay thy blushing youth; And though thy life goes out in dole, Thy perfume lingers in my soul.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Possession

POSSESSION
Whose little lady is you, chile,  Whose little gal is you? What's de use o' kiver'n up yo' face?  Chile, dat ain't de way to do. Lemme see yo' little eyes,  Tek yo' little han's down nice, Lawd, you wuff a million bills,  Huh uh, chile, dat ain't yo' price.
Honey, de money ain't been made  Dat dey could pay fu' you; 'T ain't no use a-biddin'; you too high  Fu' de riches' Jap er Jew. Lemme see you smilin' now,  How dem teef o' yo'n do shine, An' de t'ing dat meks me laff  Is dat all o' you is mine.
How 's I gwine to tell you how I feel,  How's I gwine to weigh yo' wuff? Oh, you sholy is de sweetes' t'ing  Walkin' on dis blessed earf. Possum is de sweetes' meat,  Cidah is the nices' drink, But my little lady-bird  Is de bes' of all, I t'ink.
Talk erbout 'uligion he'pin' folks  All thoo de way o' life, Gin de res' 'uligion, des' gin me  You, my little lady-wife. Den de days kin come all ha'd,  Den de nights kin come all black, Des' you tek me by de han',  An' I'll stumble on de track.
Stumble on de way to Gawd, my chile,  Stumble on, an' mebbe fall; But I'll keep a-trottin', while you lead on,  Pickin' an' a-trottin', dat's all. Hol' me mighty tight, dough, chile,  Fu' hit's rough an' rocky lan', Heaben 's at de en', I know,  So I's leanin' on yo' han'.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Precedent

PRECEDENT
The poor man went to the rich man's doors, "I come as Lazarus came," he said. The rich man turned with humble head,— "I will send my dogs to lick your sores!"
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Premonition

PREMONITION
Dear heart, good-night! Nay, list awhile that sweet voice singing  When the world is all so bright, And the sound of song sets the heart a-ringing,  Oh, love, it is not right—  Not then to say, "Good-night."
 Dear heart, good-night! The late winds in the lake weeds shiver,  And the spray flies cold and white. And the voice that sings gives a telltale quiver—  "Ah, yes, the world is bright,  But, dearest heart, good-night!"
 Dear heart, good-night! And do not longer seek to hold me!  For my soul is in affright As the fearful glooms in their pall enfold me.  See him who sang how white  And still; so, dear, good-night.
 Dear heart, good-night! Thy hand I 'll press no more forever,  And mine eyes shall lose the light; For the great white wraith by the winding river  Shall check my steps with might.  So, dear, good-night, good-night!
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Prometheus

PROMETHEUS Prometheus stole from Heaven the sacred fire  And swept to earth with it o'er land and sea.  He lit the vestal flames of poesy, Content, for this, to brave celestial ire.
Wroth were the gods, and with eternal hate  Pursued the fearless one who ravished Heaven  That earth might hold in fee the perfect leaven To lift men's souls above their low estate.
But judge you now, when poets wield the pen,  Think you not well the wrong has been repaired?  'Twas all in vain that ill Prometheus fared: The fire has been returned to Heaven again!
We have no singers like the ones whose note  Gave challenge to the noblest warbler's song.  We have no voice so mellow, sweet, and strong As that which broke from Shelley's golden throat.
The measure of our songs is our desires:  We tinkle where old poets used to storm.  We lack their substance tho' we keep their form: We strum our banjo-strings and call them lyres.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Philosophy

PHILOSOPHY
I been t'inkin' 'bout de preachah; whut he said de othah night,  'Bout hit bein' people's dooty, fu' to keep dey faces bright; How one ought to live so pleasant dat ouah tempah never riles,  Meetin' evahbody roun' us wid ouah very nicest smiles.
Dat 's all right, I ain't a-sputin' not a t'ing dat soun's lak fac',  But you don't ketch folks a-grinnin' wid a misery in de back; An' you don't fin' dem a-smilin' w'en dey 's hongry ez kin be,  Leastways, dat 's how human natur' allus seems to 'pear to me.
We is mos' all putty likely fu' to have our little cares,  An' I think we 'se doin' fus' rate w'en we jes' go long and bears, Widout breakin' up ouah faces in a sickly so't o' grin,  W'en we knows dat in ouah innards we is p'intly mad ez sin.
Oh dey 's times fu' bein' pleasant an' fu' goin' smilin' roun',  'Cause I don't believe in people allus totin' roun' a frown, But it's easy 'nough to titter w'en de stew is smokin' hot,  But hit's mighty ha'd to giggle w'en dey's nuffin' in de pot.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Possum Trot

POSSUM TROT
I 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things, An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings; But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know, I 've got one notion in my head, that I can't git to go; An' it is that the folks I meet in any other spot Ain't half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot.
I know you 've never heerd the name, it ain't a famous place, An' I reckon ef you 'd search the map you could n't find a trace Of any sich locality as this I 've named to you; But never mind, I know the place, an' I love it dearly too. It don't make no pretensions to bein' great or fine, The circuses don't come that way, they ain't no railroad line. It ain't no great big city, where the schemers plan an' plot, But jest a little settlement, this place called Possum Trot.
But don't you think the folks that lived in that outlandish place Were ignorant of all the things that go for sense or grace. Why, there was Hannah Dyer, you may search this teemin' earth An' never find a sweeter girl, er one o' greater worth; An' Uncle Abner Williams, a-leanin' on his staff, It seems like I kin hear him talk, an' hear his hearty laugh. His heart was big an' cheery as a sunny acre lot, Why, that's the kind o' folks we had down there at Possum Trot.
Good times? Well, now, to suit my taste,—an' I 'm some hard to suit,— There ain't been no sich pleasure sence, an' won't be none to boot, With huskin' bees in Harvest time, an' dances later on, An' singin' school, an taffy pulls, an' fun from night till dawn. Revivals come in winter time, baptizin's in the spring, You 'd ought to seen those people shout, an' heerd 'em pray an' sing; You 'd ought to 've heard ole Parson Brown a-throwin' gospel shot Among the saints an' sinners in the days of Possum Trot.
We live up in the city now, my wife was bound to come; I hear aroun' me day by day the endless stir an' hum. I reckon that it done me good, an' yet it done me harm, That oil was found so plentiful down there on my ole farm. We 've got a new-styled preacher, our church is new-styled too, An' I 've come down from what I knowed to rent a cushioned pew. But often when I 'm settin' there, it's foolish, like as not, To think of them ol' benches in the church at Possum Trot.
I know that I 'm ungrateful, an' sich thoughts must be a sin, But I find myself a wishin' that the times was back agin. With the huskin's an' the frolics, an' the joys' I used to know, When I lived at the settlement, a dozen years ago. I don't feel this way often, I 'm scarcely ever glum, For life has taught me how to take her chances as they come. But now an' then my mind goes back to that ol' buryin' plot, That holds the dust of some I loved, down there at Possum Trot.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Preparation

PREPARATION
The little bird sits in the nest and sings  A shy, soft song to the morning light; And it flutters a little and prunes its wings.  The song is halting and poor and brief,  And the fluttering wings scarce stir a leaf; But the note is a prelude to sweeter things,  And the busy bill and the flutter slight  Are proving the wings for a bolder flight!
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Possum

POSSUM
Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me  An' jes' gits me out o' hitch, Twell I want to tek my coat off,  So 's to r'ar an' t'ar an' pitch, Hit's to see some ign'ant white man  'Mittin' dat owdacious sin— Wen he want to cook a possum  Tekin' off de possum's skin.
W'y dey ain't no use in talkin',  Hit jes' hu'ts me to de hea't Fu' to see dem foolish people  Th'owin' 'way de fines' pa't. W'y, dat skin is jes' ez tendah  An' ez juicy ez kin be; I knows all erbout de critter—  Hide an' haih—don't talk to me!
Possum skin is jes lak shoat skin;  Jes' you swinge an' scrope it down, Tek a good sha'p knife an' sco' it,  Den you bake it good an' brown. Huh-uh! honey, you 's so happy  Dat yo' thoughts is 'mos' a sin When you 's settin' dah a-chawin'  On dat possum's cracklin' skin.
White folks t'ink dey know 'bout eatin',  An' I reckon dat dey do Sometimes git a little idee  Of a middlin' dish er two; But dey ain't a t'ing dey knows of  Dat I reckon cain't be beat Wen we set down at de table  To a unskun possum's meat!
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 Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 3/Lectures from Colombo to Almora/Vedic Teaching in Theory and Practice

VEDIC TEACHING IN THEORY AND PRACTICE
When the Swami's visit was drawing to a close, his friends in Almora invited him to give a lecture in Hindi. He consented to make the attempt for the first time. He began slowly, and soon warmed to his theme, and found himself building his phrases and almost his words as he went along. Those best acquainted with the difficulties and limitations of the Hindi language, still undeveloped as a medium for oratory, expressed their opinion that a personal triumph had been achieved by Swamiji and that he had proved by his masterly use of Hindi that the language had in it undreamt-of possibilities of development in the direction of oratory.
Another lecture was delivered at the English Club in English, of which a brief summary follows.
The subject was "Vedic Reaching in Theory and Practice". A short historical sketch of the rise of the worship of the tribal God and its spread through conquest of other tribes was followed by an account of the Vedas. Their nature, character, and teaching were briefly touched upon. Then the Swami spoke about the soul, comparing the Western method which seeks for the solution of vital and religious mysteries in the outside world, with the Eastern method which finding no answer in nature outside turns its inquiry within. He justly claimed for his nation the glory of being the discoverers of the introspective method peculiar to themselves, and of having given to humanity the priceless treasures of spirituality which are the result of that method alone. Passing from this theme, naturally so dear to the heart of a Hindu, the Swami reached the climax of his power as a spiritual teacher when he described the relation of the soul to God, its aspiration after and real unity with God. For some time it seemed as though the teacher, his words, his audience, and the spirit pervading them all were one. No longer was there any consciousness of "I" and "Thou", of "This" or "That". The different units collected there were for the time being lost and merged in the spiritual radiance which emanated so powerfully from the great teacher and held them all more than spellbound.
Those that have frequently heard him will recall similar experiences when he ceased to be Swami Vivekananda lecturing to critical and attentive hearers, when all details and personalities were lost, names and forms disappeared, only the Spirit remaining, uniting the speaker, hearer, and the spoken word.
# The Compendious Book on Calculation by Completion and Balancing

Layout 2
THE
ALGEBRA
OF
MOHAMMED BEN MUSA.
THE
ALGEBRA
OF
MOHAMMED BEN MUSA.
EDITED AND TRANSLATED
BY
FREDERIC ROSEN.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE ORIENTAL TRANSLATION FUND: AND SOLD BY J. MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET; PARBURY, ALLEN, & CO., LEADENHALL STREET; THACKER & CO., CALCUTTA; TREUTTEL & WUERTZ, PARIS; AND E. FLEISCHER, LEIPZIG.
1831.
* Preface
* The author’s preface
* Compendium on calculating by completion and reduction
* On multiplication
* On addition and subtraction
* On division
* Of the six problems
* Various questions
* On mercantile transactions
* Mensuration
* On legacies
* Computation of returns
* Notes
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Antigone of Sophocles (1911)/Preface

Layout 2
PREFACE.
I have translated the Antigone for a special performance in the Grand Opera House, Cincinnati, on the afternoon of March the tenth. The drama will be staged by one of my former pupils, Miss Edna Mannheimer. If the play acts well (for no play is good, unless it is a good acting play) I shall not be dissatisfied with my version, whatever the other merits, or demerits, of my attempted transfusion of the drama may be. If Æschylus cannot be translated into French, certainly Sophocles cannot be translated into English; for our language simply breaks down in the attempt to render the light and rapid, yet strong and unerring, words of the flexible Greek. The trimeters I translated in thirty days. Thirty years would not suffice for the choral songs—indeed, the hopelessness of translation, at the end of that period, would probably be even more apparent than it is now.
For my plagiarism of Shakesperian phraseology I have no apology to offer. I have resolutely refrained from consulting all previous translations of the tragedy except three. Two of these I have glanced at only occasionally; the third—Sir Richard Jebb’s—has been open before me constantly, so that the metempsychosis I have endeavored to make of the Antigone doubtless bears the impress of this monumental edition. Greek scholars will know that I could not escape it—and, I may add, in the words of Hæmon, “I would not, if I could.”
I am under great obligations to my colleague, Frank Wadleigh Chandler, Professor of English in the University of Cincinnati, for reading the work in manuscript, and for suggesting changes in many places. Joseph Edward Harry.
Cincinnati, Jan. 8, 1911.
# The Antiquities of the Jews

* Preface
* Book I — From Creation to the Death of Isaac
* Book II — From the Death of Isaac to the Exodus out of Egypt
* Book III — From the Exodus out of Egypt to the Rejection of the Generation
* Book IV — From the Rejection of that Generation to the Death of Moses
* Book V — From the Death of Moses to the Death of Eli
* Book VI — From the Death of Eli to the Death of Saul
* Book VII — From the Death of Saul to the Death of David
* Book VIII — From the Death of David to the Death of Ahab
* Book IX — From the Death of Ahab to the Captivity of the Ten Tribes
* Book X — From the Captivity of the Ten Tribes to the First Year of Cyrus
* Book XI — From the First Year of Cyrus to the Death of Alexander the Great
* Book XII — From the Death of Alexander the Great to the Death of Judas Maccabeus
* Book XIII — From the Death of Judas Maccabeus to the Death of Queen Alexandra
* Book XIV — From the Death of Queen Alexandra to the Death of Antigonus
* Book XV — From the Death of Antigonus to the Finishing of the Temple by Herod
* Book XVI — From the Finishing of the Temple by Herod to the Death of Alexander and Aristobulus
* Book XVII — From the Death of Alexander and Aristobulus to the Banishment of Archelaus
* Book XVIII — From the Banishment of Archelaus to the Departure of the Jews from Babylon
* Book XIX — From the Departure of the Jews from Babylon to Fadus the Roman Procurator
* Book XX — From Fadus the Procurator to Florus