OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Queen of the Black Coast/Chapter V

Now we are done with roaming, evermore;
No more the oars, the windy harp’s refrain;
Nor crimson pennon frights the dusky shore;
Blue girdle of the world, receive again
Her whom thou gavest me.
—The Song of Bêlit.
Again dawn tinged the ocean. A redder glow lit the river-mouth. Conan of Cimmeria leaned on his great sword upon the white beach, watching the Tigress swinging out on her last voyage. There was no light in his eyes that contemplated the glassy swells. Out of the rolling blue wastes all glory and wonder had gone. A fierce revulsion shook him as he gazed at the green surges that deepened into purple hazes of mystery.
Bêlit had been of the sea; she had lent it splendor and allure. Without her it rolled a barren, dreary and desolate waste from pole to pole. She belonged to the sea; to its everlasting mystery he returned her. He could do no more. For himself, its glittering blue splendor was more repellent than the leafy fronds which rustled and whispered behind him of vast mysterious wilds beyond them, and into which he must plunge.
No hand was at the sweep of the Tigress, no oars drove her through the green water. But a clean tanging wind bellied her silken sail, and as a wild swan cleaves the sky to her nest, she sped seaward, flames mounting higher and higher from her deck to lick at the mast and envelop the figure that lay lapped in scarlet on the shining pyre.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) before 1964, and copyright was not renewed.
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Works published in 1934 could have had their copyright renewed in 1961 or 1962, i.e. between January 1st of the 27th year after publication or registration and December 31st of the 28th year. As this work's copyright was not renewed, it entered the public domain on January 1st, 1963.
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# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Adopted Child

THE ADOPTED CHILD.
"Why wouldst thou leave me, oh! gentle child? Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild, A straw-roof'd cabin with lowly wall— Mine is a fair and a pillar'd hall, Where many an image of marble gleams, And the sunshine of picture for ever streams."
"Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play, Thro' the long bright hours of the summer-day, They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme, And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know— Lady, kind lady! oh! let me go."
"Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell, Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well; Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, Harps which the wandering breezes tune; And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard."
"Oh! my mother sings, at the twilight's fall, A song of the hills far more sweet than all; She sings it under our own green tree, To the babe half slumbering on her knee; I dreamt last night of that music low— Lady! kind lady! oh! let me go."
"Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest, She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou wouldst meet her footstep, my boy, no more, Nor hear her song at the cabin door. Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye!"
"Is my mother gone from her home away?— But I know that my brothers are there at play. I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell, Or the long fern-leaves by the sparkling well, Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow,— Lady, kind lady! oh! let me go."
"Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, They sport no more on the mountain's brow, They have left the fern by the spring's green side, And the streams where the fairy barks were tried. Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot."
"Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill?— But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still; And the red-deer bound in their gladness free, And the heath is bent by the singing bee, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow,— Lady, kind lady! oh! let me go."
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Captive Knight

THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT.
The prisoned thrush may brook the cage, The captive eagle dies for rage. Lady of the Lake.
'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound! And the knight look'd down from the Paynim's tower, And a Christian host in its pride and power,  Thro' the pass beneath him wound. Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice—be still!
 "I knew 'twas a trumpet's note! And I see my brethren's lances gleam. And their pennons wave by the mountain stream,  And their plumes to the glad wind float! Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice—be still!
"I am here, with my heavy chain! And I look on a torrent sweeping by, And an eagle rushing to the sky,  And a host, to its battle-plain! Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill. Cease! let them hear the captive's voice—be still!
 "Must I pine in my fetters here? With the wild wave's foam, and the free bird's flight. And the tall spears glancing on my sight,  And the trumpet in mine ear? Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice—be still!
 "They are gone! they have all pass'd by! They in whose wars I had borne my part, They that I lov'd with a brother's heart,  They have left me here to die! Sound again, clarion! Clarion pour thy blast! Sound! for the captive's dream of hope is past."
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Child's Last Sleep

THE CHILD'S LAST SLEEP.
SUGGESTED BY A MONUMENT OF CHANTREY'S.
Thou sleepest—but when wilt thou wake, fair child?— When the fawn awakes in the forest wild? When the lark's wing mounts with the breeze of morn? When the first rich breath of the rose is born?— Lovely thou sleepest, yet something lies Too deep and still on thy soft-seal'd eyes, Mournful, tho' sweet, is thy rest to see— When will the hour of thy rising be?
Not when the fawn wakes, not when the lark On the crimson cloud of the morn floats dark—
Grief with vain passionate tears hath wet The hair, shedding gleams from thy pale brow yet; Love with sad kisses, unfelt, hath press'd Thy meek-dropt eyelids and quiet breast; And the glad spring, calling out bird and bee, Shall colour all blossoms, fair child! but thee.
Thou'rt gone from us, bright one!—that thou shouldst die, And life be left to the butterfly!* Thou'rt gone, as a dew-drop is swept from the bough— Oh! for the world where thy home is now! How may we love but in doubt and fear, How may we anchor our fond hearts here, How should e'en joy but a trembler be, Beautiful dust! when we look on thee?
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Birds of Passage

THE BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing! Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring? —"We come from the shores of the green old Nile, From the land where the roses of Sharon smile, From the palms that wave thro' the Indian sky, From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.
"We have swept o'er cities in song renown'd— Silent they lie, with the deserts round! We have cross'd proud rivers, whose tide hath roll'd All dark with the warrior-blood of old; And each worn wing hath regain'd its home, Under peasant's roof-tree, or monarch's dome."
And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, Since last ye travers'd the blue sea's foam? —"We have found a change, we have found a pall, And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall, And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt,— Nought looks the same save the nest we built!"
Oh! joyous birds, it hath still been so; Thro' the halls of kings doth the tempest go! But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep, And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep. Say what have ye found in the peasant's cot, Since last ye parted from that sweet spot?
"A change we have found there—and many a change! Faces and footsteps and all things strange! Gone are the heads of the silvery hair, And the young that were, have a brow of care, And the place is hush'd where the children play'd,— Nought looks the same, save the nest we made!"
Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth, Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth! Yet thro' the wastes of the trackless air, Ye have a Guide, and shall we despair? Ye over desert and deep have pass'd,— So may we reach our bright home at last!
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Departed

THE DEPARTED.
Thou shall lie down With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings, The powerful of the earth—the wise—the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre. Bryant.
And shrink ye from the way  To the spirit's distant shore?— Earth's mightiest men, in arm'd array,  Are thither gone before.
The warrior kings, whose banner  Flew far as eagles fly, They are gone where swords avail them not,  From the feast of victory.
And the seers who sat of yore  By orient palm or wave, They have pass'd with all their starry lore—  Can ye still fear the grave?
We fear! we fear!—the sunshine  Is joyous to behold, And we reck not the buried kings,  Nor the awful seers of old.
Ye shrink!—the bards whose lays  Have made your deep hearts burn, They have left the sun, and the voice of praise,  For the land whence none return.
And the beautiful, whose record  Is the verse that cannot die, They too are gone, with their glorious bloom,  From the love of human eye.
Would ye not join that throng  Of the earth's departed flowers, And the masters of the mighty song  In their far and fadeless bowers?
Those songs are high and holy,  But they vanquish not our fear; Not from our path those flowers are gone—  We fain would linger here!
Linger then yet awhile,  As the last leaves on the bough!— Ye have lov'd the light of many a smile,  That is taken from you now.
There have been sweet singing voices  In your walks that now are still, There are seats left void in your earthly homes,  Which none again may fill.
Soft eyes are seen no more,  That made spring-time in your heart; Kindred and friends are gone before—  And ye still fear to part?
We fear not now, we fear not!  Though the way thro' darkness bends; Our souls are strong to follow them,  Our own familiar friends!
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Distant Ship

THE DISTANT SHIP.
The sea-bird's wing, o'er ocean's breast  Shoots like a glancing star, While the red radiance of the west  Spreads kindling fast and far; And yet that splendour wins thee not,—  Thy still and thoughtful eye Dwells but on one dark distant spot  Of all the main and sky.
Look round thee!—o'er the slumbering deep  A solemn glory broods; A fire hath touch'd the beacon-steep,  And all the golden woods:
A thousand gorgeous clouds on high  Burn with the amber light;— What spell, from that rich pageantry,  Chains down thy gazing sight?
A softening thought of human cares,  A feeling link'd to earth! Is not yon speck a bark, which bears  The lov'd of many a hearth? Oh! do not Hope, and Grief, and Fear,  Crowd her frail world even now, And manhood's prayer and woman's tear,  Follow her venturous prow?
Bright are the floating clouds above,  The glittering seas below; But we are bound by cords of love  To kindred weal and wo.
Therefore, amidst this wide array  Of glorious things and fair, My soul is on that bark's lone way,  For human hearts are there.
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/The Effigies

THE EFFIGIES.
Der rasche Kampf verewigt einen Mann: Er falle gleich, so preiset ihn das Lied. Allein die Thränen, die unendlichen Der überbliebnen, der verlass'nen Frau, Zählt keine Nachwelt. Goethe.
Warrior!—whose image on thy tomb,  With shield and crested head, Sleeps proudly in the purple gloom  By the stain'd window shed; The records of thy name and race  Have faded from the stone, Yet, thro' a cloud of years I trace  What thou hast been and done.
A banner, from its flashing spear  Flung out o'er many a fight, A war-cry ringing far and clear,  And strong to turn the flight; An arm that bravely bore the lance  On for the holy shrine; A haughty heart and a kingly glance—  Chief! were not these things thine:
A lofty place where leaders sate  Around the council-board; In festive halls a chair of state  When the blood-red wine was pour'd; A name that drew a prouder tone  From herald, harp, and bard;— Surely these things were all thine own,  So hadst thou thy reward.
Woman! whose sculptur'd form at rest  By the armed knight is laid, With meek hands folded o'er a breast  In matron robes array'd; What was thy tale?—Oh! gentle mate  Of him, the bold and free, Bound unto his victorious fate,  What bard hath sung of thee?
He wooed a bright and burning star—  Thine was the void, the gloom, The straining eye that follow'd far  His fast receding plume; The heart-sick listening while his steed  Sent echoes on the breeze; The pang but when did Fame take heed  Of griefs obscure as these?
Thy silent and secluded hours  Thro' many a lonely day, While bending o'er thy broider'd flowers,  With spirit far away; Thy weeping midnight prayers for him  Who fought on Syrian plains, Thy watchings till the torch grew dim—  These fill no minstrel strains.
A still, sad life was thine!—long years  With tasks unguerdon'd fraught, Deep, quiet love, submissive tears,  Vigils of anxious thought; Prayer at the cross in fervour pour'd,  Alms to the pilgrim given— Oh! happy, happier than thy lord,  In that lone path to heaven!
# Records of Woman: with Other Poems/Tasso and his Sister

TASSO AND HIS SISTER.
"Devant vous est Sorrente; là démeuroit la soeur de Tasse, quand il vint en pélérin demander à cette obscure amie, un asyle contre l'injustice des princes,—Ses longues douleurs avaient presque egaré sa raison; il ne lui restoit plus que son génie."—Corinne.
She sat, where on each wind that sigh'd,  The citron's breath went by, While the red gold of eventide  Burn'd in th' Italian sky. Her bower was one where daylight's close  Full oft sweet laughter found, As thence the voice of childhood rose  To the high vineyards round.
But still and thoughtful, at her knee,  Her children stood that hour, Their bursts of song and dancing glee,  Hush'd as by words of power. With bright, fix'd, wondering eyes that gaz'd  Up to their mother's face, With brows thro' parted ringlets rais'd,  They stood in silent grace.
While she yet something o'er her look  Of mournfulness was spread— Forth from a poet's magic book,  The glorious numbers read; The proud undying lay, which pour'd  Its light on evil years; His of the gifted pen and sword,*  The triumph—and the tears.
She read of fair Erminia's flight,  Which Venice once might hear Sung on her glittering seas at night,  By many a Gondolier; Of him she read, who broke the charm  That wrapt the myrtle grove; Of Godfrey's deeds, of Tancred's arm,  That slew his Paynim love.
Young cheeks around that bright page glow'd,  Young holy hearts were stirr'd; And the meek tears of woman flow'd  Fast o'er each burning word. And sounds of breeze, and fount, and leaf,  Came sweet, each pause between; When a strange voice of sudden grief  Burst on the gentle scene.
The mother turn'd—a way-worn man,  In pilgrim-garb stood nigh, Of stately mien, yet wild and wan,  Of proud yet mournful eye. But drops which would not stay for pride,  From that dark eye gush'd free, As pressing his pale brow, he cried,  "Forgotten! ev'n by thee!
"Am I so changed? and yet we two  Oft hand in hand have play'd;— This brow hath been all bath'd in dew,  From wreaths which thou hast made; We have knelt down and said one prayer,  And sung one vesper-strain; My soul is dim with clouds of care—  Tell me those words again!
"Life hath been heavy on my head,  I come a stricken deer, Bearing the heart, midst crowds that bled,  To bleed in stillness here."— She gaz'd till thoughts that long had slept,  Shook all her thrilling frame— She fell upon his neck and wept,  Murmuring her brother's name.
Her brother's name! and who was he,  The weary one, th' unknown, That came, the bitter world to flee,  A stranger to his own?— He was the bard of gifts divine  To sway the souls of men; He of the song for Salem's shrine,  He of the sword and pen!
# Railroad Company v. Schutte

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
100 U.S. 644
Railroad Company v. Schutte
MOTION to vacate the supersedeas, and dismiss an appeal from the Circuit Court of the United States for the Northern District of Florida.
The facts are stated in the opinion of the court.
Mr. Matt. H. Carpenter and Mr. Wayne Mac Veagh in support of the motion.
Mr. Philip Phillips and Mr. William A. Maury, contra.
MR. CHIEF JUSTICE WAITE 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
# Railroad Company v. Smith

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.

## Dissenting Opinion

    Clifford
United States Supreme Court
76 U.S. 95
Railroad Company v. Smith
ERROR to the Supreme Court of the State of Missouri.
The Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad Company brought ejectment against Smith, in one of the county courts of Mis souri, to recover possession of certain lands.
The title of the railroad company was deduced from an act of Congress, entitled, 'An act granting the right of way to the State of Missouri, and a portion of the public lands to aid in the construction of certain railroads in said State,' approved June 10th, 1852. This act granted to the State of Missouri, for the purpose of making the railroad, every alternate section of land designated by even numbers on each side of the road.
The legislature of Missouri, in September, 1852, accepted the grant, and by statute vested the land granted in the railroad company.
Such was the title of the plaintiff.
That of the defendant, Smith, was deduced from the same 'swamp-land grant,' the act of Congress, namely, which is set out in the statement of the last reported case, approved September 28th, 1850, by which Fremont County in that case held its lands. But in this case the railroad interest was the actor; not as in the last one a defending party merely, with a swamp-land grantee in the position of assailant.
On the trial below of the present cause the defendant introduced evidence against objection tending to prove that the lands in suit were wet and unfit for cultivation at the date of the swamp-land act of 1850; and this was his title. No evidence was introduced by him tending to show that the land in suit was ever certified as swamp land by the Secretary of the Interior, or that the same was ever patented as such to the State of Missouri. Nor was this pretended. In fact the correspondence of the land department of the United States showed that the secretary had no sufficient evidence to enable him to make such certificates.
The court in which the suit was brought gave judgment for Smith, the defendant, and the railroad company appealed to the Supreme Court of Missouri. That court affirmed the judgment of the court below, and the railroad company now brought the case here.
Messrs. James Carr and W. P. Hall, for the plaintiff in error; Mr. Drake, contra.
Mr. Justice MILLER 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
# Railroad Company v. Tennessee

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
101 U.S. 337
Railroad Company v. Tennessee
ERROR to the Supreme Court of the State of Tennessee.
The facts are stated in the opinion of the court.
Submitted on printed briefs by Mr. Benjamin J. Lea, Attorney-General of Tennessee, and Mr. J. B. Heiskell, for the State; and by Mr. George Hoadly and Mr. E. L. Andrews, contra.
MR. CHIEF JUSTICE WAITE 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
# Proclamation 7479

Delivered on 5 October 2001.
By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation
As a mark of respect for the memory of Michael J. Mansfield, retired Majority Leader of the United States Senate and Ambassador of the United States to Japan, I hereby order, by the authority vested in me as President of the United States by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of America, that on the day of his interment, the flag of the United States shall be flown at half-staff at the White House and upon all public buildings and grounds, at all military posts and naval stations, and on all naval vessels of the Federal Government in the District of Columbia and throughout the United States and its Territories and possessions until sunset on such day. I also direct that the flag shall be flown at half-staff for the same lengths of time at all United States embassies, legations, consular offices, and other facilities abroad, including all military facilities and naval vessels and stations.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this fifth day of October, in the year of our Lord two thousand one, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and twenty-sixth.
George W. Bush
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