OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Weaver

The Weaver.
Where Kelvin rins to join the Clyde, There lives a lad whose honest pride Can match wi' a' the kintra side,— He is a gallant weaver.
His cheeks are tinged wi' rosy hue, His een are o' the bonniest blue; But, oh! his heart, it is sae true, I love my gallant weaver.
Let others wed for sake o' gear; Gin we get health, I ha'e nae fear, That poortith ever will come near My eident lad, the weaver.
True line will mak' our labour light; 'Twill keep us blythe frae morn till night, And happiness will shine fu' bright Upon my gallant weaver.
When wintry win's, sae cauld and blae, Mak' a' the face o' nature wae, At e'en, a canty fire I'll ha'e To cheer my gallant weaver.
Then haste ye, Time; oh dinna bide; Bring round the day I'll be his bride, Then smoothly sweet the hours will glide O'er Jeanie and her weaver.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Wee Lassie

The Wee Lassie.
[Rev. Edward K. Sloan, Dornock.—Here first printed.]
A bonnie wee lassie I ken, I ken, A bonnie wee lassie I ken; The blink o' her e'e is heaven to me, An' wow! but she's ane amang ten, amang ten, An' wow! but she's ane amang ten.
A handsome wee lassie I lo'e, I lo'e, A handsome wee lassie I lo'e; The pawkie wee quean has doiter'd me clean, An' mair mischief she'll wark, I tro, I tro, An' mair mischief she'll wark, I tro.
A winsome wee lassie I'll woo, I'll woo, A winsome wee lassie I'll woo; I'll keek in her e'e, an' aiblins may pree The wee hinny blobs o' her mou', her mou', The wee hinny blobs o' her mou'.
A mensefu' wee lassie I'll wale, I'll wale, A mensefu' wee lassie I'll wale; An' soud the wee dear ha'e gowpens o' gear, She'll no be the waur for't, I'se bail, I'se bail, She'll no be the waur for't, I'se bail.
A canty wee lassie I'll wed, I'll wed, A canty wee lassie I'll wed; An' when she is mine, I'll busk her fu' fine, An' a couthie bit life we'll lead, we'll lead, An' a couthie bit life we'll lead.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Waukin' o' the Fauld

The Waukin' o' the Fauld.
[This forms the opening song of Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd. The "waukin' o' the fauld" alludes to the old pastoral practice of watching the sheepfolds at night, during the weaning of the lambs, on which occasions the shepherd was generally favoured with the company of his sweetheart.]
My Peggie is a young thing, Just enter'd in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay: My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm nae very auld, Yet weel I like to meet her at The wauking o' the fauld.
My Peggy speaks sae sweetly Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair o' a' that's rare: My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld; But she gars a' my spirits glow At wauking o' the fauld.
My Peggy smiles sae kindly Whene'er I whisper love, That I look down on a' the town, That I look down upon a crown: My Peggy smiles sae kindly, It makes me blythe and bauld, And naething gi'es me sic delight, As wauking o' the fauld.
My Peggy sings sae saftly, When on my pipe I play; By a' the rest it is confest, By a' the rest that she sings best ​My Peggy sings sae saftly. And in her sangs are tauld, Wi' innocence the wale o' sense, At wauking o' the fauld.
# The Catholic Prayer Book and Manual of Meditations/Faith of Our Fathers

FAITH OF OUR FATHERS.
Faith of our Fathers! living still, In spite of dungeon, fire, and sword; Oh! how our hearts beat high with joy Whene‘er we hear that glorious word. Faith of our fathers! holy Faith! We will be true to thee till death.
Our fathers chain’d in prisons dark, Were still in heart and conscience free, How sweet would be their children’s fate, If they like them could die for thee! Faith of our fathers! holy Faith! We will be true to thee till death.
Faith of our fathers! Mary's prayers Shall win our country back to thee, And through the truth that comes from God, Oh! then indeed shall we be free Faith of our fathers! holy Faith! We will be true to thee till death.
Faith of our Fathers! we will love Both friend and foe in all our strife. And preach thee too, as love knows how, By kindly words and virtuous life. Faith of our Fathers! holy Faith! We will be true to thee till death.
Faith of our fathers! guile and force To do thee bitter wrong unite, But all our saints shall pray for us, And bring us back thy blessed light. Faith of our fathers! holy Faith! We will be true to thee till death.
# The Catholic Prayer Book and Manual of Meditations/Feasts of Obligation

FEASTS OF OBLIGATION
IN IRELAND.
All Sundays in the year.
Nativity and Circumcision of our Lord.
Epiphany and Ascension of our Lord.
Solemnity of Corpus Christi.
Annunciation and Assumption of the B.V.M.
St. Patrick, Patron of Ireland.
Feast of SS. Peter and Paul.
Solemnity of All Saints.
FASTING DAYS ON ONE MEAL.
Wednesdays and Fridays in Advent.
Quarter Tense or Ember Days.
Days of Lent, except Sundays.
Vigils of Nativity and Pentecost.
Vigil of SS. Peter and Paul.
Vigil of Assumption of B.V.M.
Vigil of all Saints.
DAYS OF ABSTINENCE FROM FLESH MEAT.
On Fridays throughout the year. The whole time of Lent, unless otherwise allowed by the Bishop.
THE PRECEPT OF FULFILLING EASTER DUTY
(in one's own parish) in Ireland, where it is so permitted, extends to the Octave of SS. Peter and Paul.
INDULGENCES.
A Plenary Indulgence may be obtained by the faithful of Ireland on the ﬁrst Sunday of each month, and on the following principal Feasts. by complying with the usual conditions:—The Nativity of our Lord; Circumcision; Epiphany; Resurrection; Ascension; Whit-Sunday; Corpus Christi; the five principal Feasts oi the B. V. Mary, being theConception,Nativity, Annunciation,Puriﬁcation, and Assumption; and on All Saints. Also on Trinity Sunday, St. Peter and St. Paul, and St. Patrick, and on any day during the Octaves of these three Feasts.
# The Catholic Prayer Book and Manual of Meditations/Devotions to the Blessed Virgin Mary

Devotions to the Blessed Virgin Mary.
EVERY true and pious Catholic will preserve in his heart a tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and this for many and most obvious reasons, among which are the following:
1. It is Mary who gave birth to Jesus Christ our Redeemer: she is, therefore, the true Mother of God. Think seriously for a moment, Christian, on these few words: Mary is the Mother of God. Could ​God bestow on her a nobler name, or a greater dignity? O then, with what eyes will not one day Jesus look on those who would not honour his Blessed Mother, although he himself has honoured her so much! Is there indeed a creature more beloved by God than Mary, and will you not love her whom God loves so much?
2. The Holy Church of God itself teaches us devotion to Mary. How many churches and altars have been erected in her honour, how many feasts instituted for her glory, how many confraternities and even religious orders established under her name, how many treasures of grace and of indulgences have been attached by the church to the practice of honouring Mary!
Has not God performed innumerable miracles through her intercession, as so many privileged places of devotion and of pilgrimage show us? Have not kings and princes placed their states under her protection? All who truly revere Jesus Christ raise their voices in honour of Mary. For how can he honour the Son, who despises the Mother?
3. Mary is our Hope. The Holy Church names her so, when she salutes her with these words: “ Hail, our Hope! ” God refuses her nothing that she asks, because he is her Son. Neither will she refuse anything to us because she is our Mother. Jesus gave her to us for our Mother, with these words: “Woman, behold thy son!” She is the tenderest, the most devoted, the most compassionate, and most loving of all mothers. Are you a great sinner? Do not despair of salvation on that account: pray to Mary, the refuge of sinners, and you will not sink in the stormy waves of the sea of life. Would you grow in virtue? Ask of Mary, the Queen of ​Saints, and she will certainly obtain grace for you. Are you troubled? Call on Mary, the consoler of the unhappy, and you will certainly be comforted.
“ Remember, O most compassionate Virgin,” St. Bernard exclaims, “ that it never was heard that any one has sought for refuge under thy protection, without obtaining relief!”
Cultivate carefully , then, in your heart, this devotion to the blessed Mother of God, and be sure that Mary will obtain for you great graces in return for the little acts of love and homage which you offer to her. In particular, do not neglect those devotions which are so well approved and so generally practised by devout Catholics, such as the visits to the Blessed Virgin, the Litany, and the Rosary.
# The Catholic Prayer Book and Manual of Meditations/Devotions to the Sacred Passion of Our Lord

DEVOTIONS TO
The Sacred Passion of our Lord
“ I live in the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and delivered himself up for me.” — St. Paul , Gal. ii. 20.
“ Surely he hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows. He was wounded for our iniquities, he was bruised for our sins. And we like sheep have gone astray; every one hath turned aside into his own way; and the Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all.”— Isaias. liii.
“ There is nothing which is more efficacious for curing the wounds of our conscience, or enkindling in our hearts the fervent love of Jesus Christ, than continually to meditate on his sorrows and sufferings.” — St. Bernard.
HOW fervently did St. Augustine pray for the grace of being devout to the Passion of Jesus Christ! O sweet Jesus! deign to engrave thy wounds in my heart, that thy sorrows and thy love may be ever present to my thoughts. May the remembrance of thy sufferings inspire me with patience under the trials of life; and may the consideration of thy love excite in my soul a corresponding feeling of devoted undying affection.”
St. Paul exhorts us to reflect often on the sufferings of our Blessed Redeemer. “ Let us,” says the Apostle, “ run by patience to the fight proposed unto us: looking on Jesus, the author and finisher of faith, who, having joy proposed unto him, underwent the cross, despising the shame, and now sitteth on the right hand of the throng of God. For think diligently upon him who endureth such opposition from sinners against himself, that you be not wearied, fainting in your minds.” — Heb. xii. Thus does the inspired Apostle call upon us to think diligently upon the sufferings of Jesus, in order that we may not fail in ​the service of God, but make progress in the way of Christian virtue.
“ Let us learn to love Jesus Christ, who is our Saviour, our God, and all our good. For this end. I beseech thee to give every day some time to reflection on his Passion. In it thou wilt find every motive to hope for eternal life and to love God, on which depends our salvation. All the saints have made it their delight to meditate on Jesus Christ in his Passion, and by this means alone they become saints.” — St. Alphonsus.
Resolve, therefore, now and again to pray like St. Augustine for the grace of devotion to the Passion, and to recite daily some prayer in gratitude to Jesus Christ for all he has done and suffered to save your soul from everlasting torments, and prepare for it a place in the kingdom of heaven.
[Every day, about noon (at your work or employment if you like), say five Paters and Aves in honour of the sufferings of Jesus and the sorrows of the Blessed Virgin. This devotion is an easy one, and quite within the reach of every Christian, no matter how much occupied; moreover, it has great indulgences attached to it; and lastly, it will help you to be habitually mindful, not only of the sufferings of our Blessed Redeemer, but also (and this too is of much importance) of the sorrows of his most afflicted Mother.]
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXVIII

Cardamine geraniifolia D.C.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate V

Plate V
Fitch del. prel. lith. Linn. imp.
Geranium microphyllum Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXIV

Caltha dioneæfolia Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXV

Hamadryas tomentosa
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXVI

Berberis ilicifolia
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXVII

Berberis microphylla
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXI

Ranunculus craisipes Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXIII

Ranunculus seriocephalus Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LXXXIX

Draba funiculosa Hook. fil.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Song

​ SONG
All suddenly the wind comes soft, And Spring is here again; And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green, And my heart with buds of pain.
My heart all Winter lay so numb, The earth so dead and frore, That I never thought the Spring would come, Or my heart wake any more.
But Winter's broken and earth has woken, And the small birds cry again; And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds, And my heart puts forth its pain.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Sonnet, I said I splendidly loved you

​ SONNET
I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true. Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea. On gods or fools the high risk falls—on you— The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me. Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist. Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell. But—there are wanderers in the middle mist, Who cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tell Whether they love at all, or, loving, whom: An old song's lady, a fool in fancy dress, Or phantoms, or their own face on the gloom; For love of Love, or from heart's loneliness. Pleasure's not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh, And do not love at all. Of these am I.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/The Busy Heart

​ THE BUSY HEART
Now that we've done our best and worst, and parted, I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend. (O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted) I'll think of Love in books, Love without end; Women with child, content; and old men sleeping; And wet strong ploughlands, scarred for certain grain; And babes that weep, and so forget their weeping; And the young heavens, forgetful after rain; And evening hush, broken by homing wings; And Song's nobility, and Wisdom holy, That live, we dead. I would think of a thousand things, Lovely and durable, and taste them slowly, One after one, like tasting a sweet food. I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Sonnet, Oh! Death will find me

​ SONNET
Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire Of watching you; and swing me suddenly Into the shade and loneliness and mire Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing, See a slow light across the Stygian tide, And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing, And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream, Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host, Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam— Most individual and bewildering ghost!—
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Success

​ SUCCESS
I think if you had loved me when I wanted; If I'd looked up one day, and seen your eyes, And found my wild sick blasphemous prayer granted, And your brown face, that's full of pity and wise, Flushed suddenly; the white godhead in new fear Intolerably so struggling, and so shamed; Most holy and far, if you'd come all too near, If earth had seen Earth's lordliest wild limbs tamed, Shaken, and trapped, and shivering, for my touch— Myself should I have slain? or that foul you? But this the strange gods, who had given so much, To have seen and known you, this they might not do. One last shame's spared me, one black word's unspoken; And I'm alone; and you have not awoken.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Sonnet

​ SONNET (Suggested by some of the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research)
Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun, We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run Down some close-covered by-way of the air, Some low sweet alley between wind and wind, Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook, and there
Spend in pure converse our eternal day; Think each in each, immediately wise; Learn all we lacked before; hear, know, and say What this tumultuous body now denies; And feel, who have laid our groping hands away; And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Second Best

​ SECOND BEST
Here in the dark, O heart; Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night, And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover; Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apart From the dead best, the dear and old delight; Throw down your dreams of immortality, O faithful, O foolish lover! Here's peace for you, and surety; here the one Wisdom—the truth!—"All day the good glad sun Showers love and labour on you, wine and song; The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day long Till night." And night ends all things. Then shall be No lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying, Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover! (And, heart, for all your sighing, That gladness and those tears are over, over. . . .)
And has the truth brought no new hope at all, Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise? Do they still whisper, the old weary cries? "'Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival, Through laughter, through the roses, as of old Comes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet, ​Death, unappeasable by prayer or gold; Death is the end, the end!" Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
Exile of immortality, strongly wise, Strain through the dark with undesirous eyes To what may lie beyond it. Sets your star, O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night, Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar, Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light, Returning, shall give back the golden hours, Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawn Spacious and full of sunlit dancing-places, And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers, The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-faces O heart, in the great dawn!
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Sleeping Out: Full Moon

​ SLEEPING OUT: FULL MOON
They sleep within. . . . I cower to the earth, I waking, I only. High and cold thou dreamest, O queen, high-dreaming and lonely.
We have slept too long, who can hardly win The white one flame, and the night-long crying; The viewless passers; the world's low sighing With desire, with yearning, To the fire unburning, To the heatless fire, to the nameless ecstasy! . . .
Helpless I lie. And around me the feet of thy watchers tread. There is a rumour and a radiance of wings above my head, An intolerable radiance of wings. . . .
All the earth grows fire, White lips of desire Brushing cool on the forehead, croon slumbrous things. Earth fades; and the air is thrilled with ways, Dewy paths full of comfort. And radiant bands, The gracious presence of friendly hands, ​Help the blind one, the glad one, who stumbles and strays, Stretching wavering hands, up, up, through the praise Of a myriad silver trumpets, through cries, To all glory, to all gladness, to the infinite height, To the gracious, the unmoving, the mother eyes, And the laughter, and the lips, of light.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/Song: Oh! Love, they said, is King of Kings

​ SONG
"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down."— But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.
"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said, "The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!"— But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay. So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.
And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet. For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew; It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.
# The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/The Beginning

​ THE BEGINNING
Some day I shall rise and leave my friends And seek you again through the world's far ends, You whom I found so fair (Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!), My only god in the days that were. My eager feet shall find you again, Though the sullen years and the mark of pain Have changed you wholly; for I shall know (How could I forget having loved you so?), In the sad half-light of evening, The face that was all my sunrising. So then at the ends of the earth I'll stand And hold you fiercely by either hand, And seeing your age and ashen hair I'll curse the thing that once you were, Because it is changed and pale and old (Lips that were scarlet, hair that was gold!), And I loved you before you were old and wise, When the flame of youth was strong in your eyes, —And my heart is sick with memories.
# The Case For India/Chapter III

WHY INDIA DEMANDS HOME RULE.
India demands Home Rule for two reasons, one essential and vital, the other less important but necessary: Firstly, because Freedom is the birthright of every Nation; secondly, because her most important interests are now made subservient to the interests of the British Empire without her consent, and her resources are not utilised for her greatest needs. It is enough only to mention the money spent on her Army, not for local defence but for Imperial purposes, as compared with that spent on primary education.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Poor Man and His Generous Friend

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
THE POOR MAN AND HIS GENEROUS FRIEND.
There was once a rich man, who lost all he had and became poor, whereupon his wife counselled him to seek aid of one of his friends. So he betook himself to a certain friend of his and acquainted him with his strait; and he lent him five hundred dinars to trade withal. Now he had aforetime been a jeweller; so he took the money and went to the jewel-bazaar, where he opened a shop to buy and sell. Presently, three men accosted him, as he sat in his shop, and asked for his father. He told them that he was dead, and they said, ‘Did he leave any offspring?’ Quoth the jeweller, ‘He left a son, your servant.’ ‘And who knoweth thee for his son?’ asked they. ‘The people of the bazaar,’ replied he; and they said, ‘Call them together, that they may testify to us that thou art his son.’ So he called them and they bore witness of this; whereupon the three men delivered to him a pair of saddle-bags, containing thirty thousand dinars, besides jewels and bullion, saying, ‘This was deposited with us in trust by thy father.’ Then they went away; and presently there came to him a woman, who sought of him certain of the jewels, worth five hundred dinars, and paid him three thousand for them.
So he took five hundred dinars and carrying them to his friend, who had lent him the money, said to him, ‘Take the five hundred dinars I borrowed of thee; for God hath aided and prospered me.’ ‘Not so,’ quoth the other. ‘I gave them to thee outright, for the love of God; so do thou keep them. And take this paper, but read it not, till thou be at home, and do according to that which is therein.’ So he took the paper and returned home, where he opened it and read therein the following verses:
The men who came to thee at first my kinsmen were, my sire, His brother and my dam’s, Salih ben Ali is his name. Moreover, she to whom thou soldst the goods my mother was, And eke the jewels and the gold, from me, to boot, they came; Nor, in thus ordering myself to thee, aught did I seek Save of the taking it from me to spare thee from the shame.
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