OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1827/White Ship

​16
The Literary Gazette, 30th June 1827, page 429
ORIGINAL POETRY.
THE WHITE SHIP.
"Strike the sails again, and drop
 Your anchor by the shore;
Our purple cup has yet to make
 A few glad circles more.
Fair sister, seat thee by my side—
 Another health to thee:
Yon sky shall lose its rival blush,
 Ere we pass o'er the sea.
I call on thee, thou minstrel young,
 To praise the ruby tide:"
Thus spoke the young Prince Henry,
 And soon the song replied:—
 SONG.
Deep, deep, drain the cup,
 Or leave its wealth untasted—
Deep, deep, drain the cup,
 Or its best gift is wasted.
Drink not of the purple wine
 For a moment's gladness—
Flashing wit and careless laugh
 Are but transient madness;—
There's sparkling light floats on the bowl,
 There's flashing mirth within it:
But its deep forgetfulness
 Is the best spell in it.
Drain the red wine till it be
 Lethe to life's sorrow;
'Tis something to forget to-day
 That there must come to-morrow.
Twas sad; for aye have lute and bard
 Held prophecy of tone;
But, like the shadow of a bird,
 Soon was the sadness flown.
And redder, redder grew the sky,
 And redder grew the brine— The lighter rose the laugh and song,
 The gayer past the wine.
'Twas like a court of fairy land,
 Held by the silver main—
The young prince, and his sister fair,
 Their gay and gallant train.
The first star is upon the east,
 The last upon the west,
And both are, but one tinge more pale,
 Mirror'd on ocean's breast.
No cloud is on the face of heaven,
 No ruffle on the deep,
And there is but such gentle wind
 As o'er the lute might sweep.
The last wine-cup is drained, and now,
 Fair ship, they crowd to thee.
Ah! these are but unsteady hands
 To guide thee o'er the sea.
But still it was a gallant sight
 To see her breast the tide;
The queen-like countess on the deck,
 The royal youth beside:
And all was bright, as the White Ship
 Cut through the sparkling spray;
Though still her shadow, omen like,
 Dark on the waters lay.
One long, wild shriek—that hidden rock!
 The ship has perished there:—
"Back with you all, out with the boat,
 Save England's royal heir."
"Pause, on your lives!" Back sprung the prince
 Upon the shattered deck:
"My sister!" Safely in his arms
 He bore her from the wreck.
Cold, pale, the morning slowly broke;
 Upheld upon the mast,
Two, only two, remained to tell
 What in that night had past.
The one was master of that ship,
 That fair ship nothing now—
O never more he'll set her sails,
 Or guide her stately prow!
He thought but of his royal freight:
 "Is he among the dead?"
"I saw," the other said, "the wave
 Close o'er Prince Henry's head."
"And who shall to our native shore
 The dismal tidings bear;
And tell the king he has no son,
 The throne it has no heir?"
"Not I, not I, my noble prince,
 At least I'll share thy grave:"
The master loosed his hold and plunged
 Beneath the fated wave.
Wo was in merry England,
 A deep and lasting wo—
A father wept above the sea,
 His children slept below.L. E. L
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1828/Sir Adalbert

​7
Literary Gazette, 5th July, 1828, Page 427
ORIGINAL POETRY.
SIR ADALBERT: BALLAD.
Sir Adalbert, Sir Adalbert, why dost thou pass the wine?
The foam-beads are like diamonds upon a ruby shrine; Why dost thou bend thy gloomy brow so oft upon thy sword?
Why dost thou guard such sullen mood beside the festal board?
"Mine eye is best upon my sword, because the Cross is there;
And I’ve a brow of care, for well it suits the heart of care.
Now fling down each untasted cup, and listen to my tale, Then marvel that my lip is mute, or that my laughter fail.
You know the colours that I wore whene'er I rode the ring;
You know the soft eyes that were wont their sidelong glance to fling;
You know the Lady Adela, my own sweet sovereign dame,
When every knight rode up and kissed his goblet to her name.
Last night there came the little page so blest her lute to hear,
And gave my hand a scented scroll, bound with her sunny hair—
It greeted me she was alone, within her favourite bower,
And bade me welcome if I there could loiter twilight's hour!
The first star rose above the west, and I was on my way
To where, amid the orange-grove, her jasmine alcove lay; I marvelled somewhat as I came, such disarray I found—
The flowers had fallen from her hair, her lute was on the ground;
Herself flung on the violets, sweet watchers, fit to keep
A perfumed atmosphere of sighs around her summer sleep;
One ivory foot was bare, so small, the violets o'er it spread,
And one white arm made dove-like nest to shield that lovely head.
A vellum tablet filled her hand—oh well I knew the line!
For there were written words of love—the tender words were mine.
Now sweet, but not too long, love mine, thy gentle sleeping be;
My heart beat when I saw those lines—perhaps she dreams of me.
I envied e'en her dreams; dear one, I must awake thee now,
And softly did I bend to kiss the slumber from her brow:
I started at its marble touch, it was so ghastly chill;
I prest my hand upon her heart, but there the pulse was still;
I kist her mouth, it had no breath, her lip and cheek no red:
I called her, but she answered not I knew that she was dead.
To-night they lay her in the tomb, which I will watch beside,
And look my last, and weep my last, o'er my betrothed bride.
And all my gallant comrades here, pray for her soul and mine;
A long, a last farewell to all—I'm bound for Palestine."
He raised the red wine from the board, he drank them one by one;
"I never pledge man's name again:"—Sir Adalbert past on.
Next day a bark for Acre sailed: of those who crossed the main,
Were some who sought in after-years their native shore again;
But never came Sir Adalbert home to our English strand;
His death-wound won, his grave was made, within the Holy Land.L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1828/The Legacy of the Lute

​2
Literary Gazette, 16th February, 1828, Page 107
THE LEGACY OF THE LUTE.
Come, take the lute—the lute I loved,
 'Tis all I have to offer thee;
And may it be less fatal gift
 Than it has ever been to me.
My sigh yet lingers on the strings,
 The strings I have not heart to break:
Wilt thou not, dearest! keep the lute
 For my—for the departed's sake?
But pray thee do not wake that lute;
 Leave it upon the cypress tree: I would have crushed its charmed chords,
 But they so oft were strung to thee.
The minstrel-lute! oh, touch it not,
 Or weary destiny is thine;
Thy life a twilight's haunted dream—
 Thou, victim at an idol's shrine.
Thy breath but lives on others' lips—
 Thy hope, a thing beyond the grave—
Thy heart, bare to the vulture's beak—
 Thyself, a bound and barter'd slave.
And yet a dangerous charm o'er all,
 A bright but ignis-fatuus flame,
Luring thee with a show of power,
 Dazzling thee with a blaze of fame.
It is to waste on careless hearts
 The throbbing music of thine own;
To speak love's burning words, yet be
 Alone—ay, utterly alone.
I sought to fling my laurel wreath
 Away upon the autumn wind:
In vain,—'twas like those poison'd crowns
 Thou mayst not from the brow unbind.
Predestined from my birth to feed
 On dreams, yet watch those dreams depart;
To bear through life—to feel in death—
 A burning and a broken heart.
Then hang it on the cypress bough,
 The minstrel-lute I leave to thee;
And be it only for the wind
 To wake its mournful dirge for me.
I pray thee, dearest one! forget
 All that can link my thought with fame;
I'd have thee but recall those songs
 Whose only music was thy name.
L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1829

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
This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
Landon in The Literary Gazette 1829
Poems in The London Literary Gazette during the year 1829 by Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.)
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
* Contents
| 3rd January 1829 | The Churchyard | 1 |
| 3rd January 1829 | Change | 3 |
| 31st January 1829 | Lines to the Author after reading The Sorrows of Rosalie | 5 |
| 14th February 1829 | Lines on Newton's Picture of The Disconsolate | 9 |
| 28th March 1829 | A Sketch | 14 |
| 9th May 1829 | Change | 16 |
| 30th June 1829 | Fame: An Apologue | 17 |
| 29th August 1829 | The First Grave | 21 |
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1827/Wanderer

​26
The Literary Gazette, 29th December 1827, page 846
ORIGINAL POETRY.
THE WANDERER.
Float on, float on, thou lonely bark,
 Across the weary brine;
I know not why I load thee with
 Such cheerless freight as mine.
I know not why I wander forth,
 Nor what I wish to see;
For Hope, the child of Morn and Mist,
 Has long been veiled from me.
Little reck I for ruined towers—
 They may be very fair—
Let poet or let painter rave,
 I see but ruin there.
I think upon the waste above,
 And on the dead below;
I see but human vanity—
 I see but human wo.
And cities in their hour of pomp,
 The peopled and the proud—
What are they? mighty sepulchres
 To gulf a wretched crowd:
Where wealth and want are both secured
 Each one the worst to bear;
Where every heart and house are barred
 With the same sordid care.
And fairer scenes—the vine-wreathed hill
 A gold and ruby mine,
Grapes, nature's jewels, richly wrought
 Around the autumn's shrine;
The corn-fields' fairy armory,
 Where every lance is gold,
And poppies fling upon the wind
 Their banner's crimson gold:
The moon, sweet shadow of the sun,
 On the lake's tranquil breast,—
Too much these gentle scenes contrast
 My spirit's own unrest.
And I must be what I have been,
 And not what I am now,
Ere these could call a smile, or chase
 One shadow from my brow.
I must lay in some nameless sea
 The ghosts of hopes long fled;
Efface dark memory's scroll, and leave
 A shining page instead.
I must forget youth's bloom is fled,
 Ere its own measured hours;
I must forget that summer dies,
 Even amid its flowers.
And give me more than pleasure's task
 Belief that they can be;
Then every spreading sail were slow
 To bear me on the sea.
But now I care not for their course;
 Wherever I may roam,
I bear about the weariness
 That haunted me at home.
I may see all around me changed,
 Beneath a foreign sky;
I may fly scenes, and friends, and foes—
 Myself I cannot fly.L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1828

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
This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
Landon in The Literary Gazette 1828
Poems in The London Literary Gazette during the year 1828 by Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.)
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
* Contents
| 16th February 1828 | The Change | 1 |
| | The Legacy of the Lute | 2 |
| 26th April 1828 | The Dying Spaniard's Charge | 4 |
| 28th June 1828 | The Pledge | 6 |
| 5th July 1828 | Sir Adalbert: Ballad | 7 |
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1828/The Dying Spaniard's Charge

​4
Literary Gazette, 26th April, 1828, Page 267
ORIGINAL POETRY.
THE DYING SPANIARD’S CHARGE
From the Mountains overlooking Granada.
My gasping breath, I feel thee fail:
 My gallant boy, draw near—
Brush off the dew that dims thy mail;
 For shame, it is a tear!
Here, take my sword; as yet the brand
 Has never miss'd its blow:
God prosper it in thy young hand
 Against the Moslem foe!
Lift up my head—my parting gaze
 On yonder vale would be;
Facing the red sun's fading rays,
 I speak my last to thee.
Look thou upon the plain below,
 With field and vineyard spread;
And glory, like the morning's glow,
 Around yon city's head.
A thousand shrubs in blossom wreathe
 Round fountains bright and clear;—
I almost fancy I can breathe
 Their gushing fragrance here.
Then mark the rock on which we lie,
 The eagle's rough domain;
Its barren earth, its sullen sky,—
 Then look below again.
That valley is thy heritage!
 Could Eden be more fair?—
Although an exile in my age,
 I spent my boyhood there.
Ours was the shame, and ours the loss;
 Carnage and conquest spread:
The Crescent triumphed o'er the Cross,—
 Well may thy cheek grow red.
Still have a few in warfare stood
 Around the mountain brow;—
I have not spared my strength and blood—
 And I am dying now!
But other, better days are thine:—
 My hopes are proud and high,
And clearly does the future shine
 Before death's closing eye.
I see the gallant red Cross wave,
 I see the Moslems yield;
I hear the war-cry of the brave—
 Haste, boy, and join the field!
Here make my grave; and haunting here,
 My spirit will remain,
Till, vanquished by the Christian spear,
 The Moors have fled from Spain.
L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1827/Willow Leaves

The Literary Gazette, 27th January 1827, page 59
ORIGINAL POETRY.
WILLOW LEAVES.
Translation of Les Feuilles de Saule. Par Mde. Aimable Tastu.
"Un jour je m’étais amusé à effeuiller une branche de saule sur un ruisseau, et à attacher une idée à chaque feuille, que le courant entrainait."— Chateaubriand.
The hour was fair, but Autumn's dying
 Was upon leaf, and flower, and tree;
The sunshine with the season flying,
 As I could feel my life from me.
Beside an aged trunk reclining,
 All other darker days forgot,
The leaves fell, and the waves went pining,—
 Lost in my dreams, I marked them not.
From the old willow o'er me bending,
 My hand, unconscious, stripp'd a bough,
Then watch'd I the light leaves descending,
 Borne on by the blue current's flow.
Idlesse it hath the vaguest dreaming,—  From their course sought I to divine;
And mid those o'er the waters streaming
 Chose I one for my fortune's sign.
Skiff-like it flow'd with peace before it,
 Till choice of mine upon it fell,—
Then rudely prest the wild waves o'er it—
 It sank: I chose mine emblem well!
Another leaf! to some hope clinging,
 A miracle might guard its way;
‘Twas my lute's fate—the wind past, flinging
 My oracle, my hope away.
To the wave where my fortunes leave me
 My genius passes with the gale:
Shall I trust to it, to bereave me
 Of dearer vow?—my spirits fail.
E’en while at its own weakness blushing,
 My sick heart sinks beneath its fear;
That heart is weak, and dark clouds rushing,
 Are all its omens bid appear.
Down from my hand the green bough falling,
 I leave the willow and the stream;
Yet still their omens drear recalling,
 Those prophet leaves haunt midnight's dream.
L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1828/The Change

​1
Literary Gazette, 16th February, 1828, Page 107
ORIGINAL POETRY.
THE CHANGE.
Thy features do not wear the light
 They wore in happier days;
Though still there may be much to love,
 There's little left to praise.
The rose has faded from thy cheek—
 There's scarce a blush left now;
And there's a dark and weary sign
 Upon thine altered brow.
Thy raven hair is dashed with gray,
 Thine eyes are dim with tears;
And care, before thy youth is past,
 Has done the work of years.
Beautiful wreck! for still thy face,
 Though changed, is very fair—
Like beauty's moonlight, left to shew
 Her morning sun was there—
Come, here are friends and festival,
 Recall thine early smile—
And wear yon wreath, whose glad red rose
 Will lend its bloom awhile.
Come, take thy lute, and sing again
 The song you used to sing—
The bird-like song:—See, though unused,
 The lute has every string.
What! doth thy hand forget the lute—
 Thy brow reject the wreath?
Alas! whate'er the change above.
 There's more of change beneath!
The smile may come, the smile may go,
 The blush shine and depart;
But farewell when their sense is quench'd
 Within the breaking heart.
And such is thine: 'tis vain to seek
 The shades of past delight:
Fling down the wreath, and break the lute—
 They mock our souls to-night.
L. E. L.
# Lilian

* "Lilian", in Poems, Chiefly Lyrical (1830)
* "Lilian", in Poems, Volume I (1843)
# Like Southern Birds

Like southern birds, whose wings of light  Are cold and hueless while at rest— But spread to soar in upward flight,  Appear in glorious plumage drest;
The poet's soul—while darkly close  Its pinions, bids no passion glow; But roused at length from dull repose,  Lights, while it spurns, the world below.
# Like Trains of Cars on Tracks of Plush

* "The Bee" in Poems (1890)
* "Like trains of cars on tracks of plush" in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924)
# Lilacs

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Lilacs."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Lilacs, a short story by Kate Chopin.
* Lilacs, a poem by Amy Lowell.
# Lilian's Perplexities

Serialized in Once a Week.
* Part 1
* Part 2
* Part 3
* Part 4
* Part 5
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1663/One Day out of Seven

* ONE DAY OUT OF SEVEN.
* Birds cannot always sing;
* Silence at times they ask, to nurse spent feeling;
* To see some new, bright thing,
* Ere afresh burst of song, fresh joy revealing.
* Flowers cannot always blow;
* Some sabbath-rest they need of silent winter;
* Ere from its sheath below
* Shoots up a small, green blade, brown earth to splinter.
* Tongues cannot always speak;
* O God! in this loud world of noise and clatter,
* Save us this once-a-week,
* To let the sown seed grow, not always scatter.
* B.
* Spectator.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1662/To Immortal Music

* TO IMMORTAL MUSIC.
* Nay, Music, thou art young! Not long ago
* Thou hadst but rounded to thy perfect form.
* Thy virginal, sweet heart was hardly warm,
* And little knew of passion or of woe.
* Now, prescient darling of the world's old age —
* Born to its gather'd wealth, its subtlety
* And sadness — thou can'st sound the soundless sea,
* Deeper than line of deepest thought can gauge.
* Thy voice, veil'd seraph serving among men,
* Wakes strains in us immortal as thine own;
* O say thou wilt not vanish from our ken,
* Fly our dim earth as elder lights have flown,
* And leave us dumb amidst the tuneful spheres,
* With nothing lasting to the end but tears!
* Emily Pfeiffer
* Spectator.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1663

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XIV. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1663. — April 22, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXIX. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Servia, | British Quarterly Review, | 195 |
| II. | What She Came Through. By Sarah Tytler, author of "Lady Bell," etc. Part II., | Good Words, | 205 |
| III. | Some Aspects of Friendship, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 214 |
| IV. | The Fair of St. Nicodeme. By the author of "Patty," etc., | Temple Bar, | 226 |
| V. | Humour, | Cornhill Magazine, | 234 |
| VI. | Little Bobby: a Sketch in Paris, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 240 |
| VII. | Heligoland, | Saturday Review, | 244 |
| VIII. | The Power of Names, | Spectator, | 246 |
| IX. | Affectation, | Saturday Review, | 248 |
| X. | Art Needlework, | Pall Mall Gazette, | 251 |
| XI. | Going to the Bad, | Liberal Review, | 253 |
| XII. | Nelson and Suvorof, | Athenæum, | 254 |
POETRY. :
| To the Empress, | 194 | The Latest Grave of the Abbey, | 194 |
| One Day out of Seven, | 194 | At Rest, | 194 |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 255, 256 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1663/The Latest Grave of the Abbey

* THE LATEST GRAVE OF THE ABBEY.
* Within her well-loved abbey's utmost corner,
* Ensculptured and secluded, low she lies,
* Whose head at highest bent to every mourner,
* Whose eyes to all sad eyes.
* This niche is lovely with the people's sorrow,
* Her grave is blossoming with all loves today;
* Princes and toilers were at one to borrow
* Earth's flowers for earth's clay;
* Also, Christ's lambs, whom she forbade not, bringing
* Their cross of white, and scholars of the school,
* And they that tend the sick, and they whose singing
* Fills the great church heart-full.
* Violets and ivy, lily and rose together,
* In cross and chaplet, laid together down,
* Make fair the place, and Arctic mosses feather, —
* The faithful servant's crown.
* March 18. Spectator.
* Spectator.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1663/At Rest

* AT REST.
* Slow creep the shadows through the curtained room,
* As dies the crimson sun from out the west,
* And round the sleeper falls a solemn gloom.
* Rest, baby, rest!
* Hush! for the wind moans through the branches hoar,
* And snowflakes' wings against the pane are prest.
* Hush! for an angel's step hath passed the door.
* Rest, baby, rest!
* Hush! for a sound of tears that needs must flow
* Filleth the air, with stillness else opprest,
* As wild a wounded heart sobs out its woe.
* Rest, baby, rest!
* Around thee fairest flowers will soon be spread,
* Their blossoms breathing sweetness on thy breast —
* Flowers that are sacred to the early dead.
* Rest, baby, rest!
* Paler than those pale flowers is thy calm brow,
* And cold as mountain snow-wreath's frozen crest,
* For in the shadowy vale thy spirit now
* Doth rest, doth rest!
* B.
* Spectator.
# Lane v. Watts

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
234 U.S. 525
Lane v. Watts
Argued: April 14, 15, 1914. --- Decided: June 22, 1914
Assistant Attorney General West, and Mr. C. Edward Wright for appellants.
Messrs. Herbert Noble, G. H. Brevillier, Joseph W. Bailey, and James W. Vroom for appellees.
Mr. William C. Prentiss, as amicus curiae.
Mr. Justice McKenna delivered the opinion of the court:

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Lang v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Lang v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Lang v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue (289 U.S. 109)
* Lang v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue (304 U.S. 264)
# Lane v. Wilson

United States Supreme Court
307 U.S. 268
Lane v. Wilson
Argued: March 3, 1939. --- Decided: May 22, 1939
Messrs. Charles A. Chandler, of Muskogee, Okl., and James M. Nabrit, Jr., of Washington, D.C., for petitioner.
Messrs. Joseph C. Stone, of Muskogee, Okl., and Charles G. Watts, of Wagoner, Okl., for respondents.
Mr. Justice FRANKFURTER delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse