OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Elocutionist (1840-1850)/The Battle of Blenheim

Dated from examination of text and style.
THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
It was a summer’s evening, old Kasper’s work was done, And he before his cottage door was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green, His little grandchild, Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin, roll something large and round. Which he beside the rivulet in playing there had found, He came to ask what he had found, That was so large and srnootli and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy, who stood expectant by; ​And then the old man shook his head, and with a natural sigh, ‘’Tis some poor fellow’s skull,’ said he Who fell in that great victory!
‘I find them in the garden, for there’s many here about; And often when I go to plough, the ploughshare turns them out: For many thousand men,’ said he, ‘Were slain in the great victory!’
‘Now tell us what ‘twas all about,’ young Peterkin he cries And little Wilhelmine looks up with wondering waiting eyes; ‘Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for,’
‘It was the English,’ Kaspar cried, who put the French to route: But what they kill’d each other for could not well make out. But every body said,’ quoth he, ‘That ’twas a famous victory!
My father lived at Blenheim then, yon little stream hard by; They burned his dwelling to the ground, and he was forc’d to fly; So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head!
With fire and sword the country round was wasted far and wide; And many a childing mother then, and new-born baby died!— ​But things like that, you know must be At every famous victory.
They say it was a shocking sight after the field was won; For many thousand bodies here lay rotting in the sun!— But things like that, you know must be After a famous victory.
Great praise the Duke of Malbro' won, and our good Prince Eugene.’ Why, ’twas a very wicked thing, said little Wilhemine, ‘Nay Nay—my little girl,’ quoth he, It was a famous victory!’
‘And every body praised the Duke, who this great fight did win,’ ‘But what good came of it at last? quoth little Peterkin. ‘Why that I cannot tell,’ quoth he, ‘But it was a famous victory!’ Southey.
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 Elocutionist (1840-1850)/The Battle of Hohenlinden

Dated from examination of text and style.
THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.
On Linden when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly;
But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat; at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery!
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neighed, To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hills with thunder riven! Then rushed the steed to battle driven! And louder than the bolts of Heaven, Far flashed the red artillery!
But redder yet the sun shall glow, On Linden's hills of stained snow; ​⟨And⟩ bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser rolling rapidly.
⟨'Tis⟩ morn—but scarce yon level sun ⟨Can⟩ pierce the war-cloud rolling dun, ⟨Where⟩ furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy!
⟨The⟩ combat deepens—On, ye brave, ⟨Who⟩ rush to glory and the grave! ⟨Wave⟩, Munich, all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry—
⟨Few⟩, few shall part where many meet! ⟨The⟩ snow shall be their winding sheet; ⟨And⟩ every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier’s sepulchre! Campbell.
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 Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Clear Vision

THE CLEAR VISION
I did but dream. I never knew What charms our sternest season wore. Was never yet the sky so blue, Was never earth so white before. Till now I never saw the glow Of sunset on yon hills of snow, And never learned the bough’s designs Of beauty in its leafless lines.
Did ever such a morning break As that my eastern windows see? Did ever such a moonlight take Weird photographs of shrub and tree? Rang ever bells so wild and fleet The music of the winter street? Was ever yet a sound by half So merry as yon school-boy’s laugh?
O Earth! with gladness overfraught, No added charm thy face hath found; Within my heart the change is wrought, My footsteps make enchanted ground. From couch of pain and curtained room Forth to thy light and air I come, To find in all that meets my eyes The freshness of a glad surprise.
Fair seem these winter days, and soon Shall blow the warm west-winds of spring To set the unbound rills in time And hither urge the bluebird’s wing. The vales shall laugh in flowers, the woods Grow misty green with leafing buds, And violets and wind-flowers sway Against the throbbing heart of May.
Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own The wiser love severely kind; Since, richer for its chastening grown, I see, whereas I once was blind. The world, O Father! hath not wronged With loss the life by Thee prolonged; But still, with every added year, More beautiful Thy works appear!
As Thou hast made thy world without, Make Thou more fair my world within; Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt; Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin; Fill, brief or long, my granted span Of life with love to thee and man; Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest, But let my last days be my best!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Cypress-Tree of Ceylon

THE CYPRESS-TREE OF CEYLON
Ibn Batuta, the celebrated Mussulman traveller of the fourteenth century, speaks of a cypress-tree in Ceylon, universally held sacred by the natives, the leaves of which were said to fall only at certain intervals, and he who had the happiness to find and eat one of them was restored, at once, to youth and vigor. The traveller saw several venerable Jogees, or saints, sitting silent and motionless under the tree.
They sat in silent watchfulness The sacred cypress-tree about, And, from beneath old wrinkled brows, Their failing eyes looked out.
Gray Age and Sickness waiting there Through weary night and lingering day,— Grim as the idols at their side, And motionless as they.
Unheeded in the boughs above The song of Ceylon’s birds was sweet; Unseen of them the island flowers Bloomed brightly at their feet.
O’er them the tropic night-storm swept, The thunder crashed on rock and hill; The cloud-fire on their eyeballs blazed, Yet there they waited still!
What was the world without to them? The Moslem’s sunset-call, the dance Of Ceylon’s maids, the passing gleam Of battle-flag and lance?
They waited for that falling leaf Of which the wandering Jogees sing: Which lends once more to wintry age The greenness of its spring.
Oh, if these poor and blinded ones In trustful patience wait to feel O’er torpid pulse and failing limb A youthful freshness steal;
Shall we, who sit beneath that Tree Whose healing leaves of life are shed, In answer to the breath of prayer, Upon the waiting head—
Not to restore our failing forms, And build the spirit’s broken shrine, But on the fainting soul to shed A light and life divine—
Shall we grow weary in our watch, And murmur at the long delay? Impatient of our Father’s time And His appointed way?
Or shall the stir of outward things Allure and claim the Christian’s eye, When on the heathen watcher’s ear Their powerless murmurs die?
Alas! a deeper test of faith Than prison cell or martyr’s stake, The self-abasing watchfulness Of silent prayer may make.
We gird us bravely to rebuke Our erring brother in the wrong,— And in the ear of Pride and Power Our warning voice is strong.
Easier to smite with Peter’s sword Than “watch one hour” in humbling prayer. Life’s “great things,” like the Syrian lord, Our hearts can do and dare.
But oh! we shrink from Jordan’s side, From waters which alone can save; And murmur for Abana’s banks And Pharpar’s brighter wave.
O Thou, who in the garden’s shade Didst wake Thy weary ones again, Who slumbered at that fearful hour Forgetful of Thy pain;
Bend o’er us now, as over them, And set our sleep-bound spirits free, Nor leave us slumbering in the watch Our souls should keep with Thee!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Common Question

THE COMMON QUESTION
Behind us at our evening meal The gray bird ate his fill, Swung downward by a single claw, And wiped his hookëd bill.
He shook his wings and crimson tail, And set his head aslant, And, in his sharp, impatient way, Asked, “What does Charlie want?”
“Fie, silly bird!” I answered, “tuck Your head beneath your wing, And go to sleep;”—but o’er and o’er He asked the self-same thing.
Then, smiling, to myself I said: How like are men and birds! We all are saying what he says, In action or in words.
The boy with whip and top and drum, The girl with hoop and doll, And men with lands and houses, ask The question of Poor Poll.
However full, with something more We fain the bag would cram; We sigh above our crowded nets For fish that never swam.
No bounty of indulgent Heaven The vague desire can stay; Self-love is still a Tartar mill For grinding prayers alway.
The dear God hears and pities all; He knoweth all our wants; And what we blindly ask of Him His love withholds or grants.
And so I sometimes think our prayers Might well be merged in one; And nest and perch and hearth and church Repeat, “Thy will be done.”
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Crucifixion

THE CRUCIFIXION
Sunlight upon Judæa’s hills! And on the waves of Galilee; On Jordan’s stream, and on the rills That feed the dead and sleeping sea! Most freshly from the green wood springs The light breeze on its scented wings; And gayly quiver in the sun The cedar tops of Lebanon!
A few more hours,—a change hath come! The sky is dark without a cloud! The shouts of wrath and joy are dumb, And proud knees unto earth are bowed. A change is on the hill of Death, The helmed watchers pant for breath, And turn with wild and maniac eyes From the dark scene of sacrifice!
That Sacrifice!—the death of Him,— The Christ of God, the holy One! Well may the conscious Heaven grow dim, And blacken the beholding Sun. The wonted light hath fled away, Night settles on the middle day, And earthquake from his caverned bed Is waking with a thrill of dread!
The dead are waking underneath! Their prison door is rent away! And, ghastly with the seal of death They wander in the eye of day! The temple of the Cherubim, The House of God is cold and dim; A curse is on its trembling walls, Its mighty veil asunder falls!
Well may the cavern-depths of Earth Be shaken, and her mountains nod; Well may the sheeted dead come forth To see the suffering son of God! Well may the temple-shrine grow dim, And shadows veil the Cherubim, When He, the chosen one of Heaven, A sacrifice for guilt is given!
And shall the sinful heart, alone, Behold unmoved the fearful hour,
When Nature trembled on her throne, And Death resigned his iron power? Oh, shall the heart—whose sinfulness Gave keenness to His sore distress, And added to His tears of blood— Refuse its trembling gratitude?
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Christian Slave

THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE
In a publication of L. F. Tasistro—Random Shots and Southern Breezes—is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as “a good Christian!” It was not uncommon to see advertisements of slaves for sale, in which they were described as pious or as members of the church. In one advertisement a slave was noted as “a Baptist preacher.”
A Christian! going, gone! Who bids for God’s own image? for his grace, Which that poor victim of the market-place, Hath in her suffering won?
My God! can such things be? Hast Thou not said that whatsoe’er is done Unto Thy weakest and Thy humblest one Is even done to Thee?
In that sad victim, then, Child of Thy pitying love, I see Thee stand; Once more the jest-word of a mocking band, Bound, sold, and scourged again!
A Christian up for sale! Wet with her blood your whips, o’ertask her frame, Make her life loathsome with your wrong and shame, Her patience shall not fail!
A heathen hand might deal Back on your heads the gathered wrong of years: But her low, broken prayer and nightly tears, Ye neither heed nor feel.
Con well thy lesson o’er, Thou prudent teacher, tell the toiling slave No dangerous tale of Him who came to save The outcast and the poor.
But wisely shut the ray Of God’s free Gospel from her simple heart, And to her darkened mind alone impart One stern command, Obey!
So shalt thou deftly raise The market price of human flesh; and while On thee, their pampered guest, the planters smile, Thy church shall praise.
Grave, reverend men shall tell From Northern pulpits how thy work was blest, While in that vile South Sodom first and best, Thy poor disciples sell.
Oh, shame! the Moslem thrall, Who, with his master, to the Prophet kneels, While turning to the sacred Kebla feels His fetters break and fall.
Cheers for the turbaned Bey Of robber-peopled Tunis! he hath torn The dark slave-dungeons open, and hath borne Their inmates into day:
But our poor slave in vain Turns to the Christian shrine his aching eyes; Its rites will only swell his market price, And rivet on his chain.
God of all right! how long Shall priestly robbers at Thine altar stand, Lifting in prayer to Thee the bloody hand And haughty brow of wrong?
Oh, from the fields of cane, From the low rice-swamp, from the trader’s cell; From the black slave-ship’s foul and loathsome hell, And coffle’s weary chain;
Hoarse, horrible, and strong, Rises to Heaven that agonizing cry, Filling the arches of the hollow sky, How long, O God, how long?
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Cities of the Plain

THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN
“Get ye up from the wrath of God’s terrible day! Ungirded, unsandalled, arise and away! ’T is the vintage of blood, ’t is the fulness of time, And vengeance shall gather the harvest of crime!”
The warning was spoken—the righteous had gone, And the proud ones of Sodom were feasting alone; All gay was the banquet—the revel was long, With the pouring of wine and the breathing of song.
’T was an evening of beauty; the air was perfume, The earth was all greenness, the trees were all bloom; And softly the delicate viol was heard, Like the murmur of love or the notes of a bird.
And beautiful maidens moved down in the dance, With the magic of motion and sunshine of glance; And white arms wreathed lightly, and tresses fell free As the plumage of birds in some tropical tree.
Where the shrines of foul idols were lighted on high, And wantonness tempted the lust of the eye; Midst rites of obsceneness, strange, loathsome, abhorred, The blasphemer scoffed at the name of the Lord.
Hark! the growl of the thunder,—the quaking of earth! Woe, woe to the worship, and woe to the mirth! The black sky has opened; there ’s flame in the air; The red arm of vengeance is lifted and bare!
Then the shriek of the dying rose wild where the song And the low tone of love had been whispered along; For the fierce flames went lightly o’er palace and bower, Like the red tongues of demons, to blast and devour!
Down, down on the fallen the red ruin rained, And the reveller sank with his wine-cup undrained; The foot of the dancer, the music’s loved thrill, And the shout and the laughter grew suddenly still.
The last throb of anguish was fearfully given; The last eye glared forth in its madness on Heaven! The last groan of horror rose wildly and vain, And death brooded over the pride of the Plain!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/The Cross

THE CROSS
Richard Dillingham, a young member of the Society of Friends, died in the Nashville penitentiary, where he was confined for the act of aiding the escape of fugitive slaves.
“The cross, if rightly borne, shall be No burden, but support to thee;” So, moved of old time for our sake, The holy monk of Kempen spake.
Thou brave and true one! upon whom Was laid the cross of martyrdom, How didst thou, in thy generous youth, Bear witness to this blessed truth!
Thy cross of suffering and of shame A staff within thy hands became, In paths where faith alone could see The Master’s steps supporting thee.
Thine was the seed-time; God alone Beholds the end of what is sown; Beyond our vision, weak and dim, The harvest-time is hid with Him.
Yet, unforgotten where it lies, That seed of generous sacrifice, Though seeming on the desert cast, Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last.
# The Earth Turns South/Aphrodite Enoikia

APHRODITE ENOIKIA
# The Earth Turns South/Awakening

II. AS A MAN THINKETH—
AWAKENING
(After a Song by Ou-Yang Hsiu)
# The Earth Turns South/Coin of the Year

V.
Coin of the Year
# The Earth Turns South/Autumn

AUTUMN
# The Earth Turns South/Berkshires in April

BERKSHIRES IN APRIL
# The Earth Turns South/Black Night

BLACK NIGHT
# The Earth Turns South/Comrade Judas

COMRADE JUDAS
(Years of the Great War)
# The Earth Turns South/Ash-Blossom

ASH-BLOSSOM
# The Earth Turns South/Birthday

BIRTHDAY
# The Earth Turns South/Calendar

III. GREEN LEAVES AND BROWN
CALENDAR
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Adams, Abigail Smith

* related authors: Abigail Adams.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, quotes, Wikidata item.
Edition of 1920. See also the disclaimer.
ADAMS, Abigail Smith, wife of President John Adams: b. Weymouth, Mass., 23 Nov. 1744; d. 28 Oct. 1818. She was daughter of a Weymouth clergyman, who opposed the match and took for a text “My daughter is grievously tormented with a devil.” Though lacking strength and regular school education, she became a self-made force of high order in public affairs and one of the best of early American writers; her letters to her husband, collected and published, are not only of great historical and social value, but full of delightful genial humor and acute comment and judgment. Her husband's position kept them apart for years; but she joined him in France in 1784, went with him to his life of torment in London, and lived in Washington 1789-1801; thence till death at Braintree, now Quincy.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Adams, Alvin

Edition of 1920. See also Alvin Adams on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
ADAMS, Alvin, founder of Adams Express Co.: b. Andover, Vt., 16 June 1804; d. 2 Sept. 1877. On 4 May 1840 he started an express business between Boston and New York which developed into the great company above named, formed in 1854 by the consolidation of several rival firms, — including Harnden's, the initiator of the express business, — with Mr. Adams as president. In 1850 he helped to organize the pioneer express service through the California mining camps, which on the consolidation above he sold out. In the Civil War the Adams Express Company was of immense help to the government; in 1870 it extended its business to the far West.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Adamites

Edition of 1920. See also Adamites on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
ADAMITES. (1) A Christian sect said to have existed in the 2d century: so called because both men and women appeared naked in their assemblies, either to imitate Adam in the state of innocence or to prove the control which they possessed over their passions. The tradition is probably baseless, originating in a name of derision given to the Carpocratians. (See Gnostics). (2) Also called Picards, from the founder of their sect, Picard (perhaps also Beghards). He called himself Adam the Son of God, and advocated community of women. They appeared about the year 1421 on an island in the River Lusinicz, where Zisca surprised them, but was not able to destroy the whole sect. In the following year they were widely spread over Bohemia and Moravia, and especially hated by the Hussites (whom they resembled in hatred toward the hierarchy) because they rejected transubstantiation, the priesthood and the Supper. They subsequently
formed one sect with the remaining Taborites, who have accordingly been confounded with them. In 1849 a similar sect sprang up in Austria.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Adamnan, Saint

Edition of 1920. See also Adomnán on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
ADAMNAN, Saint (der. of Adam), Irish ecclesiastic and author: b. in Donegal, c. 625; d. 703 or 704. He was descended from a cousin of St. Columba and from powerful Irish chieftains. Entering the monastery of Iona, he became abbot in 697; but was involved in quarrels with his monks over Easter and the tonsure (enforcing the orthodox Roman view against the Irish Church view), which hastened his death. He wrote a most valuable life of St. Columba (q.v.), the founder of Iona, full of historical information about the early Irish-Scotch Church (best edition Reeves', 1857; English translation in the ‘Historians of Scotland,’ 1874, reissued Oxford 1895); and a hearsay but valuable report of matters in Palestine in his time, the first we have of that land in the early Middle Ages.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Adams, Arthur H.

Edition of 1920. See also Arthur Henry Adams on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
ADAMS, Arthur H., Australian journalist novelist and poet: b. Lawrence, New Zealand, 6 June 1872. He was graduated from Otago University, New Zealand, studied law and became private secretary and literary advisor to C. J. Williams, the noted Australian theatrical manager. Later he went to China as war correspondent for Australian newspapers during the Boxer trouble; and he was in England from 1902 to 1905. Among his published works are: ‘Maoriland and other Verses’ (1899); ‘The Nazarene’ (London 1902); ‘London Streets’ (poems, 1907); ‘Tussock Land’ (a novel); and stories, poems and articles in numerous periodicals, magazines and newspapers. In 1906 he became an editor on the Sidney Bulletin.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Ac′etyl

Edition of 1920. See also Acetyl group on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
AC′ETYL, the radical of acetic acid, its formula being CH$_2$CO. Acetic acid may be regarded as the hydrate of this radical, its formula being CH$_2$COOH. Acetyl chloride, CH$_2$COCl, is obtained by the action of phosphorus trichloride upon acetic acid. Acetyl chloride evolves hydrochloric acid when it is heated with any substance containing the radicals hydroxyl, amidogen or imidogen, and hence it is of importance as a test for these substances.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Adamite

Edition of 1920. See also Adamite on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
ADAMITE (named for M. Adam, a French mineralogist), a mineral, isomorphous with olivenite, and occurring in small orthorhombic crystals that are often grouped in fine granular aggregations. It is an arsenate of zinc, having the formula Zn$_3$As$_2$O$_3$Zn(OH)$_2$, although copper and cobalt may also be present. Its hardness is 3.5, and its sp. gr. 4.35. Its color is variable. It occurs at Cap Garonne, near Hyères, France; and also at Laurium, Greece, and in certain parts of Chile.