OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The North Star (Rochester)/1848/01/14/Gloomy Theologians

For the North Star. GLOOMY THEOLOGIANS.
There is a class of persons with whom I have no sympathy; as they seem to have none with the world around them. They can see no beauty in this world of ours,—no harmony in the works of nature,—nothing praiseworthy in the works of art; and, apparently afraid that Job's remark, "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward," should occasionally prove untrue, seem desirous of increasing the curse of sin, by removing every rational means of enjoyment; and of augmenting man's causes of sorrow, till not a smile enlightens the countenance, nor a feeling of pleasure gladdens the heart. May we not ask such persons, whether they are acting a benevolent part, in transforming this world into a desert, barren and desolate, which the sooner we have traversed the better? Is it true that we should not love and admire those things that are excellent and beautiful? Why, then, did our Creator form us as we are? Why did he give us minds capable of enjoyment? Why does not every sound of music grate upon the ear, instead of being pleasant and harmonious? And why, was the world made a scene of such beauty, grandeur, and sublimity? Above us, in the starry firmament, the discoveries of science show, in all their inexpressible harmony, innumerable suns and systems like our own, ever rolling on in their undeviating course, displaying the wisdom and power of their Creator. Is there no pleasure to be derived from the contemplation of these? We think of the inhabitants with which these worlds are peopled. Are they happier than we, or are they, like us, perplexed with cares and disappointments? Have they their Alexanders, their Cæsars, and their Bonapartes? Can they boast of a Plato or a Newton? and can they, as we, unroll a long catalogue of poets, patriots, and philosophers? Or are they not the abodes of the ever-blessed,—the spotless mansions of unfallen happiness? How unenviable are the feelings of the few who can find no pleasure in such contemplations! Around, are spread out on every hand the wonders of creation. The air, the earth, the sea, and the sky, are all teeming with beauty and adorned with loveliness. The setting sun sheds on the one horizon its stream of glowing light, and the pale moon appears in silvery brightness on the other. The rain falls from heaven, watering the earth, and the dew distils its vivifying influences. The hill and dale, the trees and the fields, the streams, the lakes, and the mighty ocean, all spread out before us their unnumbered beauties. He must be more than man who can fully appreciate all their loveliness, and less than man who can find no pleasure in surveying them.
Away, then, with the rigid orthodoxy that would rob this world of all that there is in it worth living for! Away with the theology that inculcates such doctrines! But let the true soul of man, in harmony with God and nature, continue still to find
# The North Star (Rochester)/1848/01/14/Miscellaneous

MISCELLANEOUS.
An Indian a Free Person of Color.—It has been decided in one of the Courts of Charleston, that a person of free Indian descent, unmixed with negro blood, is a free person of color, and therefore an incompetent witness. This decision is in opposition to the practice which has hitherto obtained in the courts of South Carolina; free Indians and the descendants of free Indians, in amity with the State, having been always regarded as competent witnesses of the superior courts.
Mineral Discovery.—An extraordinary mineral, pronounced by geologists to be pure tripoli, has been discovered in this country, and is now being manufactured by a company formed for that purpose. For cleaning the surface of glass, or removing the oxide from metals, it is certainly without an equal. Windows can be cleansed with this article with one half the labor that is required with water, and the work is done much more effectually.
Chinese Physician.—The Spanish government have recently imported into Havanna some 500 expatriated Chinese, to work as negroes. Among them is a physician who judges of disease solely by the pulse. Such is said to be the practice of the family in the "central flowery land," they feeling the pulse in the temporal artery, in the wrist and ankle The governor of Cuba gave him a license to practice, and he has been doing an immense business. Every one pays $2 who even enters his house, and on some days he takes nearly $200.
Afraid to Learn.—It is related that Galileo, who invented the telescope with which he observed he satellites of Jupiter, invited a man who was opposed to him to look through it, that he might observe Jupiter's moons. The man positively refused, saying, "If I should see them, how could I maintain my opinions which I have advanced against your philosophy?"
This is the case with many; they will no hear truth, for fear that the arguments which they have framed will be destroyed, and they may be obliged to give up their vicious indulgences.
A Word.—Say not a word you had better leave unsaid. A word is a little thing, we know, but it has stirred up a world of strife, Suppressing a word has saved many a character—many a life. A word unuttered, and Hamilton would have lived the pride of his country. Who can tell the good or bad effects of a single word? Be careful what you say. Think before you speak, and you will never be mortified with yourself, or cause a thrill of pain to flash through the heart of a friend.—Albany Knickerbocker.
Negro Ambassadors at the Court of France.—Messrs. Ardonia and Delva, men of color, presented to Louis Philippe, the the King of the French, on the 19th October letters accrediting them as envoys extraordinary and ministers plenipotentiary of the republic of Hayti to France, for the exchange of ratification of the convention of 15th May last.
# The North Star (Rochester)/1848/01/14/New York Advertisements

NEW YORK ADVERTISEMENTS
DR. J. M'Cune Smith, 93, West Broadway.
T. Jinnings, Surgeon-Dentist, 185, North Broadway.
Philip A. White, Druggist, corner of Frankfort and Gold Street.
William S. Powell, Sailor's Home, 61, Cherry Street.
Willlam rich, Hair Dressing and Bathing Saloon, Troy House, Troy, New York.
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 12

XII.
Quem virum aut heroa.
WHAT man, what hero, Clio sweet, On harp or flute wilt thou proclaim? What god shall echo's voice repeat In mocking game
To Helicon's sequester'd shade, Or Pindus, or on Hæmus chill, Where once the hurrying woods obey'd The minstrel's will, Who, by his mother's gift of song, Held the fleet stream, the rapid breeze, And led with blandishment along The listening trees? Whom praise we first? the Sire on high, Who gods and men unerring guides, Who rules the sea, the earth, the sky, Their times and tides. No mightier birth may He beget; No like, no second has He known; Yet nearest to her sire's is set Minerva's throne. Nor yet shall Bacchus pass unsaid, Bold warrior, nor the virgin foe Of savage beasts, nor Phœbus, dread With deadly bow. Alcides too shall be my theme, And Leda's twins, for horses he, He famed for boxing; soon as gleam Their stars at sea, The lash'd spray trickles from the steep, The wind sinks down, the storm-cloud flies, The threatening billow on the deep Obedient lies. Shall now Quirinus take his turn, Or quiet Huma, or the state
Proud Tarquin held, or Cato stern, By death made great? Ay, Begulus and the Scaurian name, And Paullus, who at Cannæ gave His glorious soul, fair record claim, For all were brave. Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee, Rough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard, Your sires' transmitted poverty To conquest rear'd. Marcellus' fame, its up-growth hid, Springs like a tree; great Julius' light Shines, like the radiant moon amid The lamps of night. Dread Sire and Guardian of man's race, To Thee, O Jove, the Fates assign Our Cæsar's charge; his power and place Be next to Thine. Whether the Parthian, threatening Rome, His eagles scatter to the wind, Or follow to their eastern home Cathay and Ind, Thy second let him rule below: Thy car shall shake the realms above; Thy vengeful bolts shall overthrow Each guilty grove.
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 14

XIV.
O navis, referent.
O LUCKLESS bark! new waves will force you back To sea. O, haste to make the haven yours! E'en now, a helpless wrack, You drift, despoil'd of oars; The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound; Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain, Till lash'd with cables round, A more imperious main. Your canvass hangs in ribbons, rent and torn; No gods are left to pray to in fresh need. A pine of Pontus born Of noble forest breed, You boast your name and lineage—madly blind! Can painted timbers quell a seaman's fear? Beware! or else the wind Makes you its mock and jeer. Your trouble late made sick this heart of mine, And still I love you, still am ill at ease. O, shun the sea, where shine The thick-sown Cyclades!
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 11

XI.
Tu ne quæsieris.
ASK not ('tis forbidden knowledge), what our destined term of years, Mine and yours; nor scan the tables of your Babylonish seers. Better far to bear the future, my Leuconoe, like the past, Whether Jove has many winters yet to give, or this our last; This, that makes the Tyrrhene billows spend their strength against the shore. Strain your wine and prove your wisdom; life is short; should hope be more? In the moment of our talking, envious time has ebb'd away. Seize the present; trust to-morrow e'en as little as you may.
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 13

XIII.
Cum tu, Lydia.
TELEPHUS—you praise him still, His waxen arms, his rosy-tinted neck; Ah! and all the while I thrill With jealous pangs I cannot, cannot check. See, my colour comes and goes, My poor heart flutters, Lydia, and the dew, Down my cheek soft stealing, shows What lingering torments rack me through and through. Oh, 'tis agony to see Those snowwhite shoulders scarr'd in drunken fray, Or those ruby lips, where he Has left strange marks, that show how rough his play! Never, never look to find A faithful heart in him whose rage can harm Sweetest lips, which Venus kind Has tinctured with her quintessential charm. Happy, happy, happy they Whose living love, untroubled by all strife, Binds them till the last sad day, Nor parts asunder but with parting life!
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 1

THE ODES OF HORACE.
THE ODES OF HORACE.
BOOK I.
I.
Mæcenas atavis.
ÆCENAS, born of monarch ancestors, The shield at once and glory of my life! There are who joy them in the Olympic strife And love the dust they gather in the course; The goal by hot wheels shunn'd, the famous prize, Exalt them to the gods that rule mankind; This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind Through triple grade of honours bid him rise, That, if his granary has stored away Of Libya's thousand floors the yield entire; The man who digs his field as did his sire, With honest pride, no Attalus may sway By proffer'd wealth to tempt Myrtoan seas, The timorous captain of a Cyprian bark.
The winds that make Icarian billows dark The merchant fears, and hugs the rural ease Of his own village home; but soon, ashamed Of penury, he refits his batter'd craft. There is, who thinks no scorn of Massic draught, Who robs the daylight of an hour unblamed, Now stretch'd beneath the arbute on the sward, Now by some gentle river's sacred spring; Some love the camp, the clarion's joyous ring, And battle, by the mother's soul abhorr'd. See, patient waiting in the clear keen air, The hunter, thoughtless of his delicate bride, Whether the trusty hounds a stag have eyed, Or the fierce Marsian boar has burst the snare. To me the artist's meed, the ivy wreath Is very heaven: me the sweet cool of woods, Where Satyrs frolic with the Nymphs, secludes From rabble rout, so but Euterpe's breath Fail not the flute, nor Polyhymnia fly Averse from stringing new the Lesbian lyre. O, write my name among that minstrel choir, And my proud head shall strike upon the sky!
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 15

XV
Pastor cum traheret.
WHEN the false swain was hurrying o'er the deep His Spartan hostess in the Idæan bark, Old Nereus laid the unwilling winds asleep, That all to Fate might hark, Speaking through him:— "Home in ill hour you take A prize whom Greece shall claim with troops untold, Leagued by an oath your marriage tie to break And Priam's kingdom old. Alas! what deaths you launch on Dardan realm! What toils are waiting, man and horse to tire! See! Pallas trims her ægis and her helm, Her chariot and her ire. Vainly shall you, in Venus' favour strong, Your tresses comb, and for your dames divide On peaceful lyre the several parts of song; Vainly in chamber hide From spears and Gnossian arrows, barb'd with fate, And battle's din, and Ajax in the chase Unconquer'd; those adulterous locks, though late, Shall gory dust deface.
Hark! 'tis the death-cry of your race! look back! Ulysses comes, and Pylian Nestor grey; See! Salaminian Teucer on your track, And Sthenelus, in the fray Versed, or with whip and rein, should need require, No laggard. Merion too your eyes shall know From far. Tydides, fiercer than his sire, Pursues you, all aglow; Him, as the stag forgets to graze for fright, Seeing the wolf at distance in the glade, And flies, high panting, you shall fly, despite Boasts to your leman made. What though Achilles' wrathful fleet postpone The day of doom to Troy and Troy's proud dames, Her towers shall fall, the number'd winters flown, Wrapp'd in Achæan flames."
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 18

XVIII.
Nullam, Vare.
VARUS, are your trees in planting? put in none before the vine, In the rich domain of Tibur, by the walls of Catilus; There's a power above that hampers all that sober brains design, And the troubles man is heir to thus are quell'd, and only thus. Who can talk of want or warfare when the wine is in his head, Not of thee, good father Bacchus, and of Venus fair and bright? But should any dream of licence, there's a lesson may be read, How 'twas wine that drove the Centaurs with the Lapithæ to fights And the Thracians too may warn us; truth and falsehood, good and ill, How they mix them, when the wine-god's hand is heavy on them laid! Never, never, gracious Bacchus, may I move thee 'gainst thy will, Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy shade!
Silence thou, thy savage cymbals, and the Berecyntine horn; In their train Self-love still follows, dully,
desperately blind, And Vain-glory, towering upwards in its empty- headed scorn, And the Faith that keeps no secrets, with a
window in its mind.
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 10

X.
Mercuri facunde.
GRANDSON of Atlas, wise of tongue, O Mercury, whose wit could tame Man's savage youth by power of song And plastic game! Thee sing I, herald of the sky, Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet, Hiding whate'er might please thine eye In frolic cheat. See, threatening thee, poor guileless child, Apollo claims, in angry tone, His cattle;—all at once he smiled, His quiver gone. Strong in thy guidance, Hector's sire Escaped the Atridæ, pass'd between Thessalian tents and warders' fire, Of all unseen. Thou lay'st unspotted souls to rest; Thy golden rod pale spectres know; Blest power! by all thy brethren blest, Above, below!
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 16

XVI.
O matre pulchra.
O LOVELIER than the lovely dame That bore you, sentence as you please Those scurril verses, be it flame Your vengeance craves, or Hadrian seas. Not Cybele, nor he that haunts Rich Pytho, worse the brain confounds, Not Bacchus, nor the Corybants Clash their loud gongs with fiercer sounds
Than savage wrath; nor sword nor spear Appals it, no, nor ocean's frown, Nor ravening fire, nor Jupiter In hideous ruin crashing down. Prometheus, forced, they say, to add To his prime clay some favourite part From every kind, took lion mad, And lodged its gall in man's poor heart. 'Twas wrath that laid Thyestes low; 'Tis wrath that oft destruction calls On cities, and invites the foe To drive his plough o'er ruin'd walls. Then calm your spirit; I can tell How once, when youth in all my veins Was glowing, blind with rage, I fell On friend and foe in ribald strains. Come, let me change my sour for sweet, And smile complacent as before: Hear me my palinode repeat, And give me back your heart once more.
# The Odes and Carmen Saeculare/Book 1/Part 17

XVII.
Velox amœnum.
THE pleasures of Lucretilis Tempt Faunus from his Grecian seat; He keeps my little goats in bliss Apart from wind, and rain, and heat.
In safety rambling o'er the sward For arbutes and for thyme they peer, The ladies of the unfragrant lord, Nor vipers, green with venom, fear, Nor savage wolves, of Mars' own breed, My Tyndaris, while Ustica's dell Is vocal with the silvan reed, And music thrills the limestone fell. Heaven is my guardian; Heaven approves A blameless life, by song made sweet; Come hither, and the fields and groves Their horn shall empty at your feet. Here, shelter'd by a friendly tree, In Teian measures you shall sing Bright Circe and Penelope, Love-smitten both by one sharp sting. Here shall you quaff beneath the shade Sweet Lesbian draughts that injure none, Nor fear lest Mars the realm invade Of Semele's Thyonian son, Lest Cyrus on a foe too weak Lay the rude hand of wild excess, His passion on your chaplet wreak, Or spoil your undeserving dress.
# The Pearl/Volume 10/Pleasures Afar. Discovery of the Longitude.

A merchant of Genoa leaving wife at home; Kiss'd a little whore, in the town of Rome; "You, my dear;" said he, "tried full many a nation, Then say who had the longest tool of generation?"
Said the merry girl, "Oh, that's soon decided, You, who cross the sea, are the best provided; What a length of tail, though the seas you roam, Your spouses never fail, to bear you babes at home!"
# The Pearl/Volume 1/The Wanton Lass

Air.—"Derry Down."
There was a lass they called bonny Bet, With a jolly fat arse, and a cunt black as jet; Her quim had long itched, and she wanted, I vow, A jolly good fucking, but couldn't tell how. Derry down.
She thought of a plan that might serve as the same, That herself she might shag without any shame; So a carrot she got, with a point rather blunt, And she ramm'd it and jamm'd it three parts up her cunt. Derry down.
She liked it so well that she oft used to do it, Till at length the poor girl had occasion to rue it; For one day, when amusing herself with this whim, The carrot it snapped, and part stuck in her quim. Derry down.
She went almost mad with vexation at this, Indeed it was time, the poor girl couldn't piss. The lass was in torture, no rest had poor Bet, So at last an old doctor she was forced to get. Derry down.
The doctor he came, and she told him the case, Then with spectacles on, and a very long face, He bid her turn up, though she scarcely was able, And pull up her petticoats over her navel. Derry down.
Her clouts she held up, round her belly so plump, And he gave her fat arse such a hell of a thump, That he made her cry out, tho' he did it so neat, And away flew the carrot bang into the street. Derry down.
Now a sweep passing by, he saw it come down, Picked it up and he ate it, and said with a frown, By God! it's not right, it's a damned shame, I say, That people should throw buttered carrots away. Derry down.
# The Pearl/Volume 10

A Journal of Facetiæ and Voluptuous Reading.

### Table of Contents

* La Rose D'Amour.
* Sally's Mistake.
* Pleasures Afar. Discovery of the Longitude.
* Miss Coote's Confession, or the Voluptuous Experiences of an Old Maid.
* Lady Pokingham, or They All Do It.
* The Arithmetician. A Fact.
# The Pearl/Volume 10/The Arithmetician. A Fact.

Come tell me, dear Charlotte, my goddess, I cried; What numbers have tasted thy charms? Too fickle enslaver! thou ownest a pride, In admitting a host to thine arms! Yet blooming in all the luxuriance of youth The hills of thy bosom belie thee, Then come my enchantress, confess me the truth, Let not prudery idly deny me! O never, she cried, let us reckon the "number," But rather the "length" of our loves! Ah, give me full measure! and if it be under, I reckon by couples my "doves," With my finger I spann'd every member of pleasure, Together I spann'd the amount, Till the pricks put together, were twelve miles in measure And then I gave o'er the account!
# The Pearl/Volume 11

A Journal of Facetiæ and Voluptuous Reading.

### Table of Contents

* La Rose D'Amour.
* Frank Fane - A Ballad.
* My Grandmother's Tale or May's Account of Her Introduction to the Art of Love.
* Lady Pokingham, or They All Do It.
# The Pearl/Volume 1/The Rival Toasts

An English and an American vessel of war being in port together, Captain Balls, of the former, invited the officers of the Yankee frigate to dine in board of his ship, but stipulated, in order to avoid any unpleasantness, that no offensive or personal toasts should be proposed, to which the Americans cheerfully assented. However, after dinner, during dessert, when the conversation happened to turn warmly upon the respective merits of the two nations, a Yankee officer suddenly stood up, and said he wished to propose a toast, which he should take as a personal offense if anyone refused to drink it.
Captain B. mildly expressed a hope that it was nothing offensive, but consented to drink to whatever it might be, with the proviso that, if he thought fit to do so, he should propose another afterwards.
Then shouted the American, exultingly: "Here's to the glorious American flag: Stars to enlighten all nations, and Stripes to flog them."
Captain B. drained a bumper to the American's toast; then turning to the old ship's steward, standing behind his chair, said quietly: "You can beat that, can't you, Jack?"
"Ay! Aye! Sir! If you fill me a stiff'un."
The Captain mixed him a good swig of hot and strong. Then handing the steward the glass, he thundered out: "Silence for Jack's toast, and any gentleman here present, refusing to drink to it, I shall not take it as a personal offense, but at once order the gunner's mate to give him three dozen. Now then, Jack."
Jack, with a grim smile, and bowing to the Yankee officer, said: "Then here's to the ramping, roaring British Lion, who pisses on the stars, and wipes his arse on the stripes."
# The Poor Voter on Election Day

* "The Poor Voter on Election Day" in The Riverside song book, 1893.
* "The Poor Voter on Election Day" in The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895)
# The Poetry of Architecture

was serialised in Loudon's Architectural Magazine from September 1837 to December 1838, under the pen name "Kata Physin" (Greek for "According to Nature"). It was a study of cottages, villas, and other dwellings which centred on a Wordsworthian argument that buildings should be sympathetic to their immediate environment and use local materials and anticipated key themes in his later writings. Warning: template has been deprecated.
Layout 2
THE POETRY
OF
ARCHITECTURE:
COTTAGE, VILLA, ETC.
TO WHICH IS ADDED SUGGESTIONS ON
WORKS OF ART.
BY "KATA PHUSIN." CONJECTURED NOM-DE-PLUME OF JOHN RUSKIN.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS
NEW YORK: JOHN WILEY & SON, 15 astor place. 1873.
Poole & Maclauchlan, printers and bookbinders 205-213 East 12th St., New York.
page
ADVERTISEMENT.
It is not generally known that Mr. Ruskin contributed a number of most interesting articles, on the Poetry of Architecture, &c., to this Magazine (Loudon's Architectural Magazine), under the nom-de-plume of "Kata Phusin."—London Catalogue.
Massachusetts, Feb., 1873.
Messrs. Wiley & Son,
Dear Sirs:—I find in London's Magazine of Architecture, of perhaps 30 years ago, a series of charming articles, with illustrations, entitled Villa and Cottage Architecture, signed " Kata Phusin," which must surely have been written by Ruskin—his style perfectly.
Yours truly,
H. W. P.
page
CONTENTS.
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