OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Funeral at Sea

FUNERAL AT SEA.
"Yesterday, a child died in the ship. To-day, I read the English burial-service,—and committed its body to the mighty deep, until the day when the grave and sea shall give up their dead. The mother lay in tears in her berth,—the father could scarce repress his anguish, and I felt the agony of their grief, as I pronounced the solemn words, that accompanied the body to the pathless deep." Journal of the late Rev. Henry B. McLellan.
The deep sea took the dead. It was a babe
Like sculptur'd marble, pure and beautiful
That lonely to its yawning gulphs went down.
—Poor cradled nursling,—no fond arm was there
To wrap thee in its folds; no lullaby
Came from the green sea-monster, as he laid
His shapeless head thy polished brow beside,
One moment wondering at the beauteous spoil
On which he fed. Old Ocean heeded not
This added unit to his myriad dead.
But in the bosom of the tossing ship
Rose up a burst of anguish, wild and loud,
From the vex'd fountain of a mother's love.
—The lost! The lost! Oft shall her startled dream,
Catch the drear echo of the sullen plunge
That whelm'd the uncoffin'd body,—oft her eye
Strain wide through midnight's long unslumbering watch,
Remembering how his soft sweet breathing seem'd
Like measur'd music in a lilly's cup,
And how his tiny shout of rapture swelled,
When closer to her bosom's core, she drew
His eager lip.
 Who thus, with folded arms,
And head declin'd, doth seem to count the waves,
And yet to heed them not? The sorrowing sire,
Doth mark the last, faint ripple, where his child
Sank down into the waters. Busy thought
Turns to his far home, and those little ones,
Whom sporting 'mid their favorite lawn he left,
And troubled fancy shows the weeping there,
When he shall seat them once more on his knee,
And tell them how the baby that they lov'd,
Hid its pale cheek within its mother's breast,
And pin'd away and died,—yet found no grave
Beneath the church-yard turf, where they might plant
The lowly mound with flowers.
 What lifts the heart
Up from its bitter sadness? Hark! His voice
That o'er the thundering wave, doth pour sublime
Such words, as arch the darkest storm of life
With faith's perennial bow.
 Thou, who dost speak
Of His eternal majesty, who bids
Both earth and sea to render up their dead,
Know'st thou how soon thy tomb shall drink the tears
Of mourning kindred? Thou, who thus dost stand
Serene in youthful beauty, to yield back
What God hath claim'd,—know'st thou how full the tide
Of sympathy, that now thy bosom thrills
For strangers, in thine own paternal halls
Shall flow for thee?
 And if thou could'st, the flush
Would not have faded on thy glowing cheek,
For thou had'st made the countenance of death
Familiar as a friend, through Him who pluck'd
The terror from his frown, and from his sting
The venom. At thine early tomb we bend,
Taking that deep monition to our souls,
Which through embowering verdure seems to sigh
On every breeze—how frail is earth's best hope,
And how immortal that, which roots in Heaven.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Funeral in a New Colony

FUNERAL IN A NEW COLONY.
Amid the forest-skirted plain
 A few rude cabins spread,
And from their doors a humble train
 Pass'd forth with drooping head;
They hied them to the dead man's home,
 Lone hearth, and vacant chair,
Deep sorrow dimm'd that lowly dome,
 Yet rose no voice of prayer.
His widow'd wife was weeping loud,
 While closely to her breast,
Affrighted at the unwonted crowd,
 A wondering infant prest,
His aged mother bending low
 With poverty and care,
Sent forth a feeble wail of woe,—
 Where was the soothing prayer?
They bare him through his cultured land,
 They halted not to weep;
That corn was planted by his hand,
 Who shall its harvest reap?
On, on, beneath his favorite trees
 That coffin'd corpse they bear,
A sighing sound was on the breeze,
 But still no voice of prayer.
Where his own plough had broke the soil,
 A narrow grave was made,
And 'mid the trophies of his toil
 The Emigrant they laid;
But none the balm of Heaven to shed,
 With priestly power was there,
No hallow'd lip above the dead
 To lift the voice of prayer.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Funeral of Dr. Mason F. Coggswell

FUNERAL OF DR. MASON F. COGGSWELL.
There was a throng within the temple-gates,
And more of sorrow on each thoughtful brow
Than seemed to fit the sacred day of praise.
Neighbor on neighbor gaz'd, and friend on friend,
Yet few saluted; for the sense of loss
Weigh'd heavy in each bosom. Even the dirge
Breath'd tremulous—for holy music moan'd
A smitten worshipper. Grave, aged men
Bow'd down their reverend heads in wondering woe,
That he who so retain'd the ardent smile
And step elastic of life's morning prime,
Should fall before them. Stricken at his side
Were friendships of no common fervency
Or brief endurance; for at his glad tone
And the warm pressure of his hand, awoke
Fond recollections, scenes of boyhood's bliss,
And the unwounded trust of guileless years,
Glassing themselves in each congenial breast.
—The men of skill, who cope with stern disease,
And wear Hygeia's mantle, offering still
Fresh incense at her shrine, with sighs deplore
A brother and a guide: while yon mute train,
Whose speech is in the eye, pour forth their tears,
As o'er a father lost. Say,—can ye tell
How many now amid this gather'd throng
In tender meditations deeply muse,
Coupling his image with their gratitude?
He had stood with them at the gate of Death,
And pluck'd them from the Spoiler's threatening grasp,
Or when the roses from their pilgrimage
Were shorn, walk'd humbly with them 'neath the cloud
Of God's displeasure. Such remembrances
Rush o'er their spirits with a whelming tide,
Till in the heart's deep casket, tribute tears
Lie thick, like pearls. And doubt not there are those
'Mid this assembly, in the scanty robes
Of penury half wrapt, who well might tell
Of ministrations at their couch of woe,
Of toil-spent nights, and timely charities,
Uncounted, save in heaven.
'Tis well!—'Tis well!
The parted benefactor justly claims
Such obsequies. Yet let the Gospel breathe
Its strain sublime. A hallow'd hand hath cull'd
From the deep melodies of David's lyre,
And from the burning eloquence of Paul,
Balm for the mourner's wound. But there's a group
Within whose sacred home, yon lifeless form
Had been the centre of each tender hope,
The soul of every joy. Affections pure
And patriarchal hospitality,
Like household deities, presiding spread
Their wings around, making the favor'd cell
As bright a transcript of lost Eden's bliss,
As beams below. Now round that shaded hearth
The polish'd brow of radiant beauty droops,
Like the pale lilly-flower, by pitiless storms
Press'd and surcharg'd. There too are sadden'd eyes
More eloquent than words, and bursting hearts;
Earth may not weigh such grief. 'Tis heal'd in Heaven.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Hymn for a Charitable Association

HYMN FOR A CHARITABLE ASSOCIATION.
Widow! long estranged from gladness,
 In thy cell so lonely made,
Where chill Penury's cloud of sadness
 Adds to grief a sterner shade,
Look! the searching eye hath found thee,
 Pitying hearts confess thy claim,
Bounteous spirits shed around thee
 Blessings in a Saviour's name.
Orphan! in despondence weeping,
 Crush'd by want and misery dire,
Or on lowly pallet sleeping,
 Dreaming of thy buried sire,
Hands like his, combine to rear thee,
 Stranger-arms are round thee cast,
And a Father ever near thee,
 Fits the shorn lamb to the blast.
Brethren! by the precious token
 Which the sons of mercy wear,
By the vows we here have spoken,
 Grav'd in truth, and seal'd with prayer,
Penury's pathway we will brighten,
 Misery with compassion meet,
And the heart of sorrow lighten,
 Till our own shall cease to beat.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Imprisonment for Debt

IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT.
Why do ye tear
Yon lingering tenant from his humble home?
His children cling about him, and his wife
Regardless of the wintery storm, doth stand
Watching his last, far footsteps with a gaze
Of speechless misery. What is his crime?
The murderer's steel in headlong passion rais'd?
Or the red flame, in stealthy malice touch'd
To some unguarded roof? Ah no, ye say
His crime is poverty.
Disease, perchance,
Hath paralyzed his arm, or adverse skies
Withheld his harvest, or the thousand ills
That throng the hard lot of the sons of toil
Drank up his spirit. Ye indeed may hold
His form incarcerate, but will that repair
The trespass on your purse? To take away
The means of labor, yet require the fruits
Savoreth, methinks, of Pharaoh's policy.
Doth Themis sanction what the code of Christ
Condemns? "How readest thou?" Are there, who deem
The smallest portion of their drossy gold
Full counterpoise for liberty and health,
And God's free air, and home's sweet charities?
'Mid the gay circle round their evening fire
Sit they in luxury, while warbled song,
And guest, and wine-cup speed the flying hours,
Unmindful of the prison'd one who droops
Within his close barr'd cell, or of the storm
That hoarsely round his distant dwelling sweeps,
Where she who in a lowly bed hath laid
Her famish'd babes, kneels shivering at their side,
Mingling the tear-gush with her lonely prayer?
—Revenge may draw a subsidy from pain,
Wringing stern usury from woman's woe,
And infancy's distress; but is it well
For souls that hasten to a dread account
Of motive and of deed at Heaven's high bar,
To break their Saviour's law?
Up, cleanse yourselves
From this dark vestige of a barbarous age,
Sons of the Gospel's everlasting light!
Nor let a brother of your own blest clime
Rear'd in your very gates, participant
Of freedom and salvation's birthright, find
Less favor than the heathen.
It would seem
That man who for the fleeting breath he draws
Is still a debtor and hath nought to pay,
He, who to cancel countless sins expects
Unbounded clemency, 'twould seem that he
Might to his fellow-man be pitiful,
And show that mercy which himself implores.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Foreign Missions

FOREIGN MISSIONS.
Up, at the Gospel's glorious call!
 Country and kindred what are they? Rend from thy heart, these charmers, all,
 Christ needs thy service, hence away.
Tho' free the parting tear may rise,
 Tho' high may roll the boisterous wave,
Go, find thy home 'neath foreign skies,
 And shroud thee in a stranger's grave.
Perchance, the Hindoo's languid child,
 The infant at the Burman's knee,
The shiverer in the artic wild,
 Shall bless the Eternal Sire for thee.
And what hath Earth compar'd to this?
 Knows she of wealth or joy like thine?
The ransom'd heathens' heavenly bliss,
 The plaudit of the Judge divine!
# Young Hunters of the Lake/front matter

Layout 2
By Captain Ralph Bonehill
12 mo. Illustrated.
FOUR BOY HUNTERS Or The Outing of the Gun Club
GUNS AND SNOWSHOES Or The Winter Outing of the Young Hunters
YOUNG HUNTERS OF THE LAKE Or Out with Rod and Gun
Copyright, 1908, by Cupples & Leon Company
Young Hunters of the Lake
Printed in U. S. A.
# Young India, Viking Press, 1924-1926/Government Servants and A.I.S.A.

GOVERNMENT SERVANTS AND A.I.S.A.
A Government servant writes to say that he has been a habitual Khaddar wearer for the last four years, and his Khaddar is made out of yarn of his own spinning. He is a regular spinner, but being a Government servant has not hitherto belonged to any association. He now enquiries whether the A.I.S.A. being, as its preamble shows, non-political in character, he may become its member. I am certainly of opinion that even the Viceroy can become a member of the Association with perfect impunity if he approves of its objects. Unless therefore there is anything in the rules of Government Service debarring Government servants from becoming members of any association whatsoever although non-political, no Government servant who is in sympathy with A.I.S.A. should hesitate to become its member. The same correspondent asks whether it is obligatory to spin half an hour daily or whether a member may finish the whole quota as soon as he can. According to the constitution of the Association it is open to any one to send the whole of his annual subscription of twelve thousand yards at once. It is not obligatory to spin daily. But it is ​certainly advisable to do so even though one may have finished his quota.
M.K.G.
# Young India, Viking Press, 1924-1926/The Naked Truth

19th November, 1925
THE NAKED TRUTH
“We did not conquer India for the benefit of the Indians. I know it is said at missionary mectings that we conquered India. We conquered India to raise the level of the Indians. That is cant. We conquered India as the outlet for the goods of Great Britain. We conquered India by the sword and by the sword we should hold it. (“Shame.”) Call shame if you like. I am stating facts. I am interested in missionary work in India and have done much work of that kind, but I am not such a hypocrite as to say we hold India for the Indians. We hold it as the finest outlet for British goods in general, and for Lancashire cotton goods in particular.”
This is reported to have been said by Sir William Joynson-Hicks. But he is not the first minister to have reminded us of our serfdom. Why should truth be at all unpalatable? It must do us good to know ourselves as we are—destined to be ‘hewers of wood and drawers of water’ for the benefit of whom​soever will claim us by the prowess of his sword. It is good too that due emphasis is laid on Lancashire goods. The sword will be sheathed as soon as Manchester calico ceases to be saleable in India. It is much more economical, expeditious and possible to give up the use of Manchester and therefore foreign calico than to blunt the edge of Sir William's sword. The process will multiply the number of swords and therefore also miseries in the world. Like opium production the world manufacture of swords needs to be restricted. The sword is probably responsible for more misery in the world than opium. Hence do I say that if India takes to the spinning wheel she will contribute to the restriction of armament and peace of the world as no other country and nothing else can.
M.K.G.
# Young India

Young India was a journal published in English by Mahatma Gandhi.
    Warning: template has been deprecated.

## Young India

* 1919 (transcription project)
   * Young India Pamphlet, September 1919 (transcription project)
   * January 1919 (transcription project)
   * February 1919 (transcription project)
* 1920 (transcription project)
* 1921 (transcription project)
* 1922 (transcription project)
* 1923 (transcription project)
* 1924 (transcription project)
* 1925 (transcription project)
* 1926 (transcription project)
* 1927 (transcription project)

### Compilations

* Freedom's Battle
* Young India, 1919-1922
   * Young India, 1919-1922/Sketch of the Non-cooperation Movement by Babu Rajendra Prasad (transcription project)
   * Young India, 1919-1922/Volume 1 (start transcription)
   * Young India, 1919-1922/Volume 2 (start transcription) (vol. 1 and 2)
* Young India, Viking Press, 1924-1926 (transcription project)

## India Home Rule League of America

* Young India (India Home Rule League of America)
   * 1918 (transcription project)
   * 1919 (transcription project)
   * 1920 (transcription project)

## See also

* Young India, an Interpretation and a History of the Nationalist Movement from Within, by Lala Lajpat Rai (1916) (transcription project)
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Story of Egil Skallagrimsson/Chapter 14

Layout 2
CHAPTER XIV.
Thorolf again in Finmark.
THAT winter Thorolf went again to Finmark, taking with him about a hundred men. As before, he held a fair with the Finns, and travelled far and wide over Finmark. But when he reached the far east, and his coming was heard of, then came to him some Kvens, saying that they were sent by Faravid, king of Kvenland, because the Kiriales were harrying his land; and his message was that Thorolf should go thither and bear him help; and further that Thorolf should have a share of the booty equal to the king's share, and each of his men as much as two Kvens. With the Kvens the law was that the king should have one-third as compared with his men when the booty was shared, and beyond that, as reserved for him, all bearskins and sables. Thorolf put this proposal before his men, giving them the choice to go or not; and the more part chose to venture it, as the prize was so great. Thus it was decided that they should go eastwards with the messengers.
​But when Thorolf came to Kvenland and met king Faravid, they made them ready for their march, being three hundred of the king's men and a fourth hundred Norsemen. And they went by the upper way over Finmark, and came where the Kiriales were on the fell, the same who had before harried the Kvens. These, when they were aware of the enemy, gathered themselves and advanced to meet them, expecting victory as heretofore. But, on the battle being joined, the Norsemen charged furiously forwards, bearing shields stronger than those of the Kvens; the slaughter turned to be in the Kiriales' ranks many fell, some fled. King Faravid and Thorolf took there immense wealth of spoil, and returned to Kvenland, whence afterwards Thorolf and his men came to Finmark, he and Faravid parting in friendship.
Thorolf came down from the fell to Vefsnir; then went first to his farm at Sandness, stayed there awhile, and in spring went with his men north to Torgar.
But when he came there, it was told him how Hildirida's sons had been that winter at Throndheim with king Harold, and that they would not spare to slander Thorolf with the king; and it was much questioned what grounds they had had for their slander. Thorolf answered thus: 'The king will not believe this, though such lies be laid before him; for there are no grounds for my turning traitor him, when he has done me much good and no evil. And so far from wishing to do him harm (though I had the choice), I would much rather be a baron of his than be called king, when some other fellow-countryman might rise and make me his thrall.'
# The Story of Egil Skallagrimsson/Chapter 15

Layout 2
CHAPTER XV.
King Harold and Harek.
HILDIRIDA'S sons had been that winter with king Harold, and in their company twelve men of their own household and neighbours. The brothers were often talking with the king, and they still spoke in the ​same way of Thorolf. Harek asked: 'Didst thou like well, O king, the Finns' tribute which Thorolf sent thee?'
'I did,' said the king.
'Then wouldst thou have been surprised,' said he, 'if thou hadst received all that belonged to thee! But it was far from being so; Thorolf kept for himself the larger share. He sent thee three bearskins, but I know for certain that he kept back thirty that were by right thine; and I guess it was the same with other things. This will prove true, O king, that, if thou put the stewardship into the hand of myself and my brother, we shall bring thee more wealth.' And to all that they said about Thorolf their comrades bore witness, wherefore the king was exceeding angry.
# The Story of Egil Skallagrimsson/Chapter 20

Layout 2
CHAPTER XX.
Skallagrim's marriage.
THERE was a man named Yngvar, powerful and wealthy. He had been a baron of the former kings. But after Harold came to the throne, Yngvar sate at home and served not the king. Yngvar was married and had a daughter named Bera. Yngvar dwelt in the Firths. Bera was his only child and heiress. Grim Kveldulf's son ​asked Bera to wife, and the match was arranged. Grim took Bera in the winter following the summer when Thorolf had parted from him and his father.
Grim was then twenty-five years old, and was now bald, wherefore he was henceforth called Skallagrim. He had then the management of all the farms belonging to his father and himself and of all the produce, though Kveldulf was yet a hale and strong man. They had many freedmen about them, and many men who had grown up there at home and were about Skallagrim's equals in age. Men of prowess and strength they were mostly, for both father and son chose strong fellows to be their followers, and trained them after their mind. Skallagrim was like his father in stature and strength, as also in face and temper.
# The Story of Egil Skallagrimsson/Chapter 21

Layout 2
CHAPTER XXI.
Hallvard and his brother go after Thorolf.
KING HAROLD was in Vik while Thorolf was harrying, and in the autumn he went to Upland, and thence northward to Throndheim, where he stayed through the winter with a large force. Sigtrygg and Hallvard were with him they had heard what Thorolf had done at their house on Hising, what scathe he had wrought on men and property. They often reminded the king of this, and withal how Thorolf had plundered the king and his subjects, and had gone about harrying within the land. They begged the king's leave that they two brothers might go with their usual following and attack Thorolf in his home.
The king answered thus: 'Ye may think ye have good cause for taking Thorolf's life, but I doubt your fortune falls far short of this work. Thorolf is more than your match, brave and doughty as ye may deem yourselves.'
The brothers said that this would be put to the proof, if the king would grant them leave; they had often run great risk against men on whom they had less to avenge, and generally they had won the day.
And when spring came, and men made ready to go their ​several ways, then did Hallvard and his brother again urge their request that they might go and take Thorolf's life. So the king gave them leave. And I know,' he said, 'ye will bring me his head and many costly things withal when ye come back; yet some do guess that if ye sail north ye will both sail and row south.'
They made them ready with all speed, taking two ships and two hundred men; and when they were ready they sailed with a north-east wind out of the firth, but that is a head-wind for those coasting northward.