OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 105

CHAPTER 105
INDIGENCE
1041. Wantest thou to know what is more galling than indigence ? then know that indigence alone is more galling than indigence.
1042. Caitiff Indigence is an enemy to the joys of this life as well as of the next.
1043. The itching that goeth by the name of Indigence killeth dignity of demeanour and refinement of speech, even though they run in the very blood.
1044. Want will drive even men of high family to forget their dignity and to speak the language of abject servility.
1045. There are a thousand mortifications concealed underneath this one curse called poverty.
​1046. The words of the indigent will carry no weight even when they expound grand truths with masterly skill and knowledge.
1047. The poverty that is divorced from virtue will estrange even the mother that bore him from the side of the miserable wretch.
1048. Is Indigence to bear me company even to-day ? It tormented me but only yesterday even unto death.
1049. It is possible to go to sleep even in the midst of flames: but it is impossible to get even a wink of sleep in the midst of poverty.
1050. The one way open to the indigent is to renounce utterly, their lives: their not doing so is but death to salt and rice-water.
* ↑ To be taken as the words of an indigent man sinking under the load of his poverty.
* ↑ of others.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 107

CHAPTER 107
THE DREAD OF BEGGARY
1061. The man that beggeth not is ten million times worthier than he that beggeth, even though it be only at the hands of men that give lovingly and with all their heart.
1062. If He that made the earth intended that man should live even by begging, may He wander about the world and perish.
1063. Nothing is hardier than the hardihood that sayeth to itself, I shall put an end to my indigence by begging.
1064. Behold the dignity that consenteth not to beg even when reduced to utter destitution : even the whole universe is too small to hold it.
1065. Though it is only gruel thin as water, nothing is more savoury than the food that is earned by the labour of one's hands.
​1066. Even if what thou beggest is only water for the cow, nothing is so humiliating to the tongue to utter as a begging prayer.
1067. Of all that beg I shall beg but this one thing : If ye needs must beg, beg not of those that shirk.
1068. The hapless ship called begging will split the moment that it striketh the rock of dodging.
1069. The heart melteth even when it contemplateth the lot of the beggar : but when it thinketh on the rebuffs that he receiveth, it simply dieth away.
1070. Where doth the life of the dodger hide itself when he sayeth nay? At the the mere sound of his rebuff the life of the beggar ebbeth away !
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 106

CHAPTER 106
BEGGING
1051. Thou mayest beg if thou seest men that can afford to do charity : if they feign inability, it is their fault, not thine.
1052. Even begging will be a pleasure if thou canst obtain what thou beggest without suffering any humiliation
1053. There is a charm even in begging, at the hands of those who understand their duty and do not falsely pretend inability to help.
1054. Behold the man who sayeth not nay to a request even in a dream: begging at the hands of such a man is as honourable as bestowing itself.
1055. If men take freely to begging as a means of livelihood, it is because there are men in the world that refuse not alms.
​1056. Behold the men that have not the churlishness to deny charity: the pangs of poverty would cease at the very sight of them.
1057. Behold the men that give without snubbing or huffing the beggar: the heart of the beggar rejoiceth when he meeteth them.
1058. If there were none to beg for alms, the whole world would have no more interest than a dance of marionettes.
1059. Where would be the glory of men of a liberal hand if there were none in the world to beg of them ?
1060. Let not the beggar scowl when a man pleadeth inability to give : for his own need should be enough to show him that another may be in like condition.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 109

PART III
LOVE
SECTION i
THE SECRET MARRIAGE
CHAPTER 109
THE WOUND THAT BEAUTY INFLICTETH
HE
1081. The jewelled form that appeareth yonder, is it a Goddess ? or a peacock chosen from among its kind ? or is it simply a lovely maid ? Verily I am too dazed to tell.
1082. How would it fare with men if the fascinating siren of the solitudes assail them with a whole host behind her ? So fareth it with me when the lovely one returneth my look.
1083. I never knew Death before : I know it now: it weareth the form of a woman and hath large and battling eyes.
1084. She is simple and gracious, but yet her eyes are versed in the ways of waging war: for they drink the lives of those that look on her.
1085. Is it Death that I behold or simply eyes ? or is it the look of the gazelle ? for all three are to be found in the glance of this artless one.
​1086. It is only when her eyebrows will cease to bend and will veil her looks that her eyes will cease to cause me the pangs that make me tremble.
1087. The vestment that covereth the beauteous breasts of this fair one are even as the eye-cover on the eyes of the infuriate elephant.
1088. Is it by her fair forehead that my manhood is overcome, the manhood that causeth to tremble even those that have not faced me on the battle-field ?
1089. To what end are these trinkets that merely mar her beauty, when she hath the guileless look of the fawn and modesty as her especial ornaments ?
1090. Wine giveth joy, but only to him that tasteth it: it can never delight at the mere seeing as doth love.
* ↑ Every one of the verses in this part are to be taken as the words either of the love or of the lady-love or of the confidante of the lady-love.
* ↑ See note to verse 918.
* ↑ i.e., but for the vestment men would be smitten by their beauty and die. It is usual for mahouts to cover with a metal plate the eyes of elephants which are expected to become rabid.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 110

CHAPTER 110
READING OF THE HEART BY SIGNS
HE
1091. Two are the looks of her eye: one of them tortureth the heart, but the other is the balm that healeth it.
1092. The furtive lightning glance that is turned on the lover the moment that his eyes are turned aside, is not merely the half of love: it is more than a moiety.
1093. She looked, and then she bowed : that was the watering of the young plant of love that was springing between us.
1094. When I look at her, she looketh at the ground: but when I look away, she looketh on me and solely smileth.
1095. She doth not seem to see me, it is true : but she smileth to me the while she affecteth but to wink an eye.
​﻿1096. Though they feign to speak as strangers, the words of the loving will be seen through in an instant.
1097. The half-hearted reproach and the offended look are the marks of those who pretend to spurn but who really love us in their hearts.
1098. The slender-shaped maid melteth to see my imploring look and softly smileth: and the gentle smile giveth her an added grace.
1099. It is only in lovers' eyes that one can see the look of absolute unconcern, as if they were perfect strangers.
1100. When eyes speak their consent to eyes, the words of the mouth are quite superfluous.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 113

CHAPTER 113
THE GLORIFICATION OF LOVE
HE
1121. Even as honey and milk mingled together is the dew on the lips of this fair one with the subdued speech.
1122. How great is the love between the body and the soul? Even so great is my love for this artless one.
1123. O thou Image in the pupil of mine eye ! Leave and give room to the fair one that I love, for there is no other abode that is worthy of her.
1124. It is as life when she is near: but it is as very death when she leaveth my side.
1125. The virtues of this maiden of the fair and battling eyes I certainly can remember, provided first I can forget them : but how to forget them I know not!
SHE
1126. He will not go from my eyes, neither will he be hurt when I wink: so subtle is the form of my beloved.
1127. My beloved dwelleth ever within my eyes: so I do not paint them even lest I lose sight of him even for an instant.
1128. My beloved is ever in my heart: so I eat not hot food lest it burn him there.
1129. I wink not for fear that I should lose sight of him even for that instant : and for this the village folk charge him with cruelty.
1130. He dwelleth lovingly within my bosom and is never away from thence : and yet the village folk declare that he hath abandoned me, and call him cruel.
* ↑ The fancy is that the lover is seated in her very eye.
* ↑ For eyes close automatically when being painted.
* ↑ Wrongly thinking that he has abandoned her and attributing her sleeplessness to it.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 114

CHAPTER 114
OVERPASSING THE BOUNDS OF DECORUM
HE
1131. To those who are torn from their loved one and suffer the pangs of their passion there is no other resource left but the riding of the palmyra stalk.
1132. Body and soul cannot support this anguish and have consented to ride the palm: they have trampled down all shame.
1133. Firmness and delicacy I had formerly: but now I possess only the stalk of the palmyra that is ridden by the love-lorn lover.
1134. I put my trust on the raft that was built of firmness and delicacy : but the rushing stream of passion hath carried it along in its course.
1135. This fair one who weareth tiny bracelets and who is tender as a flower, it is she that hath given me the palm-stalk and the anguish of eventide.
​1136. My eyes cannot sleep for thinking of that artless one: I shall ride the stalk therefore even in this late hour of the night.
1137. Nothing is grander than the woman who refuseth to ride the palm-stalk even when the passion of her heart is deep as the ocean.
SHE
1138. My Passion considereth not the strength of my modesty nor my kindness towards itself, and betrayeth my secret by showing itself abroad.
1139. My passion seeth that none taketh notice of it: and it wandereth about in the streets in great anguish.
1140. Fools laugh at me to my very face : for they have not felt all the pangs that I feel.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 115

CHAPTER 115
THE PUBLIC HUMOUR
HE
1141. As the outcry riseth in the village my life cometh back to me: it is my good luck that many do not know this secret.
1142. These village folk know not the rare virtues of my beloved with the flower-like eyes: for they have given her cheaply to me by raising this clamour.
1143. Is not this gossip of the village a precious thing unto me ? for even without obtaining her I feel as if I possess her already.
1144. This clamour hath increased my passion for her: without it it would have been but a stale affair.
SHE
1146. Our meeting was but for one day: but the outcry that hath arisen over it is as when the serpent hath swallowed the moon !
1147. The public talk is the manure, and the reproach of mother is the water, that unite to feed and prolong this anguish.
1148. To think of extinguishing my passion by raising this clamour is like wanting to put out a fire by pouring ghee over it.
1149. Is it for me to blush at this outcry now, when he who said, Fear not, hath abandoned me to the scandal of every by-stander ?
1150. This clamour which I in my heart so much desire, the village rabble hath raised for me : verily my beloved will not refuse it me if I should beg it of him.
HERE ENDETH SECTION i OF PART III
ENTITLED THE SECRET MARRIAGE
* ↑ And leave me to die by stopping the outcry. See pages xxviii and xxix of preface before reading this chapter.
* ↑ The eclipse of the moon to see which everybody in India comes out of his home.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 116

SECTION ii
CHASTITY
CHAPTER 116
THE PANGS OF SEPARATION
SHE
1151. If there is anything about not parting, speak it to me : but if it is only thy quick return, tell it to those who will survive till then.
1152. His mere look was once a delight unto me : but now even his embrace saddeneth, for that I fear that he is to part.
1153. It is impossible to put trust in any, seeing that the thought of separation lurketh somewhere even in the heart of him who knoweth my heart.
1154. If he who bade me be of good cheer consenteth to part from me, can I be blamed for having placed my trust in his solemn promise ?
1155. If thou wouldst save my life, O my maid, prevent the master of that life, from going : for if he part from me, I despair of our meeting again.
​ 1156. When he hath the hardness to say to my very face, I shall depart, I give up all hope of his ever coming back to save me.
1157. Would not my close-fitting bracelets themselves that have slipped from my wrists raise the bruit of the parting of my lord ?
1158. Bitter is life in a place where there are no bosom friends : but bitterer far is separation from the beloved one.
1159. Hath fire, which burneth only when it is touched the power, like love, to burn when it is far away ?
1160. Many there are, are there not, who live through the pangs of leave-taking and of separation, and survive till the return of the beloved!
* ↑ See 1160 below.
* ↑ The fancy is that her grief at the very thought of his parting is so intense that her arms have lost flesh and allowed the bracelets to slip of themselves.
# Saul (Byron)

* "Saul", in Sentimental reciter (1856), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Saul", in The Works of Lord Byron (1898–1905), edited by Ernest Hartley Coleridge and Rowland Edmund Prothero
# Sentimental reciter/The Spanish Champion

THE SPANISH CHAMPION.
The warrior bow’d his crested head, And tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free His long imprisoned sire: ​“I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train; I pledge my faith, my liege, my lord, Oh! break my father’s chain.”
“Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, A ransomed man this day, Mount thy good steed, and thou and I Will meet him on his way.” Then lightly rose that loyal son, And bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in hand, His charger’s foaming speed.
And lo! from far as on they press'd They met a glittering band, With one that ’mid them stately rode, Like a leader in the land: Now haste, Bernardo, haste, For there in very truth is he, The father—whom thy grateful heart Hath yearned so long to see.
His proud breast heaved, his dark eye flash’d, His cheeks’ hue came and went, He reach’d that grey-haired chieftain’s side And there dismounting bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent, His father’s hand he took— What was there in its touch, That all his fiery spirit shook?
That hand was cold—a frozen thing; It dropp’d from his like lead: He look’d up to the face above, The face was of the dead; A plume waved o’er the noble brow, The brow was fixed and white; He met at length his father’s eyes, But in them was no sight!
Up from the ground he sprung, and gazed, But who can paint that gaze? They hush’d their very hearts who saw Its horror and amaze;
​They might have chained him, as before That noble form he stood, For the power was stricken from his arm, And from his cheek the blood.
“Father!” at length he murmur'd low, And wept like children then— Talk not of grief till thou hast seen The tears of warlike men— He thought on all his glorious hopes, On all his high renown, Then flung the falchion from his side, And in the dust sat down;
And covering, with his steel-gloved hands, His darkly mournful brow, “No more, there is no more,” he said, “To lift the sword for now; My king is false, my hope betray’d, My father, oh! the worth, The glory and the loveliness, Are past away to earth!”
Up from the ground he sprung once more, And seized the monarch’s rein: Amid the pale and wilder’d looks Of all the courtier train, And with a fierce o’ermastering grasp, The rearing war horse led, And sternly set them face to face— The king before the dead.
“Came I not here on thy pledge, My father's hand to kiss? Be still! and gaze thou on, false king, And tell me what is this; The look, the voice, the heart I sought— Give answer, where are they? If thou would’st clear thy perjured soul, Put life in this cold clay.
“Into those glossy eyes put light; Be still, keep down thine ire, Bid those cold lips a blessing speak, This earth is not my sire:
​Give me back him for whom I fought, For whom my blood was shed; Thou canst not, and, O king! his blood Be mountains on thy head!”
He loosed the rein, his slack hand Fell upon the silent face, He cast one long deep mournful glance, And fled from that sad place; His after fate no more was heard Amid the martial train, His banner led the spears no more Among the hills of Spain!Hemans.
# Sentimental reciter/Crescentius

CRESCENTIUS.
I looked upon his brow—no sign Of guilt or fear was there. He stood as proud by that death-shrine As even o’er despair He had a power; in his eye There was a quenchless energy, A spirit that could dare The deadliest form that death could take, And dare it for the daring’s sake.
He stood, the fetters on his hand,— He raised them haughtily; And had that grasp been on the brand, It could not wave on high With freer pride than it waved now. Around he looked with changeless brow On many a torture nigh— The rack, the chain, the axe, the wheel, And worst of all his own red steel.
I saw him once before: he rode Upon a coal black steed, And tens of thousands throng’d the road, And bade their warrior speed. His helm, his breast-plate were of gold And graved with many a dent that told Of many a soldier deed; The sun shone on his sparkling mail, And danced his snow plume on the gale.
​But now he stood, chain’d and alone, The headsman by his side; The plume, the helm, the charger gone; The sword that had defied The mightiest, lay broken near, And yet no sign or sound of fear Came from that lip of pride. And never king or conqueror’s brow Wore higher look than this did now.
He bent beneath the headsman’s stroke With an uncovered eye; A wild shout from the numbers broke Who throng’d to see him die. It was a people’s loud acclaim— The voice of anger and of shame; A nation’s funeral cry, Rome’s wail above her only son— Her patriot—and her latest one. L. E. L.
# Sentimental reciter/Claude Melnotte's Description of the Lake of Como

CLAUDE MELNOTTE’S
Description of the Lake of Como.
Nay, dearest, nay, if thou would’st have me paint The home to which, could love fulfil its prayer, This hand would lead thee, listen—a deep vale, Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world, Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold And whispering myrtles; glassing softest skies As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows, As I would have thy fate! A palace lifting to eternal summer Its marble walls from out a glossy bower Of coolest foliage musical with birds, Whose songs should syllable thy name! At noon We’d sit beneath the arching vines and wonder Why earth could be unhappy, while the heavens Still left us youth and love! We’d have no friends That were not lovers, no ambition, save To excel them all in love; we’d read no books That were not tales of love—that we might smile To think how poorly eloquence of words Translates the poetry of hearts like ours! And when night came, amidst the breathless heavens We’d guess what star should be our home when love
​Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps, And every air was heavy with the sighs Of orange groves and music from sweet lutes, And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth I’ the midst of roses!—Dost thou like the picture?
Bulwer
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar

THE KURAL
OR
THE MAXIMS OF TIRUVALLUVAR
☞ Books can be had of the Author V. V. S. Aiyar, 89 Dharmaraja Covil Street, Pondichery, South India.
Price: Cloth bound Rs 2.12 Wrapper Rs 2.4.
THE KURAL
OR
The Maxims of Tiruvalluvar
TRANSLATED BY
V. V. S. AIYAR
One of the highest and purest expressions of human thought.—M. Ariel.
As essentially the highest type of verbal and moral excellence among the Tamil people as ever Homer was among the Greeks.—Gover.
PUBLISHED BY
SUBRAHMANYA SHIVA
8 Pichu Pillai Street, Mylapore, Madras S.
1916
COPYRIGHT REGISTERED
PRINTED AT THE BRAHMAVADIN PRESS
14 BAKER STREET, MADRAS.
    Preface
    Introduction
    Notes
CONTENTS
N.B.—In the transliteration of Tamil words occurring in the book, the letter j is italicised in order to indicate that it is to be pronounced as in French.
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 1925, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 98 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
# Sentimental reciter/The Old Arm Chair

THE OLD ARM CHAIR.
I love it—I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm chair! I’ve treasured it long as a sainted prize— I’ve bedewed it with tears, and enbalmed it with sighs Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart, Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would you learn the spell? a mother sat there! And a sacred thing is that old arm chair.
In childhood’s hour I lingered near The hallowed seat with listening ear; And gentle words that mother would give, To fit me to die, and teach me to live. She told me shame would never betide, With truth for my creed, and God for my guide; She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, As I knelt beside that old arm chair.
I sat and watched her many a day, When her eyes grew dim and her locks were grey, And I almost worshipped her when she smiled And turned from her Bible to bless her child. Years rolled on, but the last one sped— My idol was shattered—my earth star fled: I learnt how much the heart can bear, When I saw her die in that old arm chair.
’Tis past! ’tis past! but I gaze on it now With quivering breath and throbbing brow: ’Twas there she nursed me—’twas there she died, And memory flows with lava tide— Say it is folly, and deem me weak, While the scalding tears start from my cheek. But I love it—I love it, and cannot tear My soul from a mother’s old arm chair.
Eliza Cook