OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Bird Book/Tropic Birds

TOTIPALMATE SWIMMERS. Order IV. STEGANOPODES TROPIC BIRDS. Family PHAETHONTIDAE
Tropic Birds are Tern-like birds, having all the toes connected by a web, and having the two central tail feathers very much lengthened.
112. YELLOW-BILLED TROPIC BIRD. Phccthon americanus.
Range. Tropical regions, breeding in the Bahamas, West Indies and the Bermudas, casual in Florida and along the South Atlantic coast.
The Tropic Birds are the most strikingly beautiful of all the sea birds; they are about 30 inches in length, of which their long slender tail takes about 20 inches. They fly with the ease and grace of a Tern, but with quicker wing beats. They feed on small fish, which they capture by
Dull purplish
darting down upon, and upon snails which they get from the beach and ledges. They build their nests in the crevices and along the ledges of the rocky cliffs. While gregarious to a certain extent they are not nearly as much so as the Terns. The nest is made of a mass of seaweed and weeds; but one egg is laid, this being of a creamy or pale purplish ground color, dotted and sprinkled with chestnut, so thickly as to often obscure the*!!3 Yellow - bill ? d Tropic Bird ground color. Size 2.10x1.45. Data Coney Is ^ Red-billed Tropic Bird
TOTJPALMATE SWIMMERS
113. RED-BILLED TROPIC BIRD. Phcethon cethereus.
Range. Tropical seas, chiefly in the Pacific Ocean; north to southern
California.
They breed on several islands in the Gulf of California. This species differs
from the preceding in having a red bill, and the back being barred with black.
Their plumage has a peculiar satiny appearance and is quite dazzling when
viewed in the sunlight. They are strong fliers and are met with, hundreds of miles from land. They often rest upon the water, elevating their long tails to keep them from getting wet. They nest, as do the preceding species, on rocky islands and are said to also build their nests in trees or upon the ground. The single egg that they lay has a creamy ground and is minutely dotted with chestnut. Pale purplish size 2.40 x 1.55. Data. Daphone
Is., Galapagos Is., South Pacific, March 6, 1901. Egg laid in hole of a sea cliff.
The eggs are easily told from those of the yellow-billed by their much larger
size. Collector, R. H. Beck.
[113.1] RED-TAILED TROPIC BIRD. Phcethon rubricaudus.
Range. Tropical regions of the Pacific and Indian Oceans, accidental off
the coast of Lower California.
This is a singularly beautiful species resembling the latter except that the
central tail feathers are bright red, with the extreme tips white. During
August and September they breed in large colonies on small islands in the South Seas. On Mauritius Island they build their nests either in the trees or place them on the ground; the nest is made of seaweed, sticks and weeds; numbers of them nest on
.*'.>* "*. f JK32WHB^^^V Laysan Is., of the Hawaiian
group, concealing their nests on the ground under overhanging brush.
The single egg has a pale purplish ground speckled with brown.
Pale purplish ground color
73
THE BIRD BOOK
# The Bird Book/Wagtails

THE BIRD BOOK
WAGTAILS. Family MOTACILLID^
[694.] WHITE WAGTAIL. Motacilla alba.
Prague's Pipit
Range. An Old World species; accidental in Greenland.
These birds are abundant ^ -?
throughout Europe, nesting ^0 on the ground, in stone walls, ;; or in the crevices of old buildings, etc., the nests being made of grass, rootlets, leaves, etc.; the eggs are White grayish white, finely specked with blackish gray. Size .75 x .55.
[695.] SWINHOE'S WAGTAIL. ocularis.
Motacilla
Range. Eastern Asia; accidental in Lower California and probably Alaska.
ALASKA YELLOW WAGTAIL. Budyt< flavus alascensis.
the
Range. Eastern Asia; abundant on the Bering Sea coast of Alaska in summer.
These handsome Wagtails are common in summer on the coasts and islands of Bering Sea, nesting on the ground under tufts of grass or beside stones, usually in marshy ground. Their eggs number from 'four to six and are white, profusely spotted with various shades of brown and gray. Size .75 x .55. Data. Kamchatka, June 20, 1896. Nest on the ground; made of fine rootWhite lets, grass and moss, lined neatly with animal fur.
697. PIPIT. Anthus rubescens.
Range. North America, breeding in the Arctic regions, and in the Rocky Mountains south to Colorado, winters in southern United States and southward.
The Titlarks are abundant birds in the United States during migrations, being found in flocks in fields and cultivated ground. Their nests, which are placed on the ground in meadows or marshes under tufts of grass, are made of moss and grasses; the four to six eggs are dark grayish, heavily spotted and blotched with brown and blackish. Size .75 x .55. Gray
[698.] MEADOW PIPIT. Anthus pratensis.
Range. Whole of Europe; accidental in Greenland.
This species is similar to the American Pipit and like that species nests on the ground; they are very abundant and are found in meadows, woods or thickets in the vicinity of houses. Their nests are made chiefly of grasses, lined with hair; the eggs are from four to six in number and are grayish, very heavily spotted and blotched with grayish brown. Size .78 x .58.
418
[699-] RED-THROATED PIPIT. Anthus
PERCHING BIRDS
cermnus.
Range. An Old World species; accidental in the Aleutians and Lower California.
The nesting habits of this bird are like those of the others of the genus.
700. SPRAGUE'S PIPIT. Anthus spraguei.
Range. Interior of North America, breeding from Wyoming north to Saskatchewan. Winters in the plains of Mexico.
These birds are common on the prairies and breed abundantly on the plains of the interior of northern United States and Manitoba. They have a flight song which is
Grayish white said to be fully equal to that of the famous European Skylark. They nest on the ground under tufts of grass or up-turned sods, lining the hollow with fine grasses; their three or four eggs are grayish white, finely specked with grayish black or purplish. Size .85 x .60. Data. Crescent Lake, Canada. Nest of fine dried [Trasses, built in the ground at the side of a sod.
Sage Thrasher
# The Book of Scottish Song/Ah, the poor Shepherd

Ah, the poor Shepherd.
[This fine lyric is given in the first vol. of Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany without any signature, but it is the production of the accomplished poet, William Hamilton of Bangour, (born 1704; died 1754.) It was written to the tune of "Galashiels," and will be found with the music in the second volume of Johnson's Museum.]
Ah, the poor shepherd's mournful fate, When doom'd to love and doom'd to languish, To bear the scornful fair one's hate, Nor dare disclose his anguish! Yet eager looks and dying sighs My secret soul discover, While rapture, trembling through mine eyes, Reveals how much I love her. The tender glance, the reddening cheek, O'erspread with rising blushes, A thousand various ways they speak A thousand various wishes.
For, oh! that form so heavenly fair, Those languid eyes so sweetly smiling, That artless blush and modest air So fatally beguiling; Thy every look, and every grace, So charm, whene'er I view thee, Till death o'ertake me in the chase Still will my hopes pursue thee. Then, when my tedious hours are past, Be this last blessing given, Low at thy feet to breathe my last, And die in sight of heaven.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Allister M'Allister

Allister M'Allister.
[It is singular that the authorship of this spirited song is unknown.—Air, "Jenny's Bawbee."]
O Allister M'Allister, Your chanter sets us a' astir, Then to your bags and blaw wi' birr, We'll dance the Highland fling. Now Allister has tuned his pipes, And thrang as bumbees frae their bykes, The lads and lasses loup the dykes, And gather on the green. O Allister M'Allister, &c:
The miller, Hab, was fidgin' fain To dance the Highland fling his lane, He lap as high as Elspa's wame, The like was never seen; As round about the ring he whuds, And cracks his thumbs and shakes his duds, The meal flew frae his tail in cluds, And blinded a' their een. O Allister M'Allister, &c.
Neist rauchle-handed smiddy Jock, A' blacken'd o'er wi' coom and smoke, Wi' shauchlin' blear-e'ed Bess did yoke, That slaverin'-gabbit quean. He shook his doublet in the wund, His feet like hammers strack the grund,
The very moudiwarts were stunnd, Nor ken'd what it could mean. O Allister M'Allister, &c.
Now wanton Willie was nae blate, For he got haud o' winsome Kate, "Come here," quo' he, "I'll show the gate To dance the Highland fling." The Highland fling he danced wi' glee, And lap as he were gaun to flee; Kate beck'd and bobb'd sae bonnilie, And tript it light and clean. O Allister M'Allister, &c.
Now Allister has done his best. And weary houghs are wantin' rest, Besides they sair wi' drouth were strest, Wi' dancin' sae I ween. I trow the gauntrees gat a lift, And round the bicker flew like drift, And Allister that very night, Could scarcely stand his lane. O Allister M'Allister, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Alloa House

Alloa House.
[Written by Dr. Alexander Webster, one of the ministers of Edinburgh. The tune is by Oswald. Dr. Webster was born at Edinburgh in 1707, and died there in 1784, in the 51st year of his ministry.]
The spring-time returns, and clothes the green plains, And Alloa shines more cheerful and gay, The lark tunes his throat, and the neighbouring swains, Sing merrily round me wherever I stray: But Sandy nae mair returns to my view; Nae spring-time me cheers, nae music can charm; I He's gane! and, I fear me, for ever: adieu! Adieu every pleasure this bosom can warm!
O All'ja house! how much art thou chang'd! How silent, how dull to me is each grove! Alane I here wander where ance we both rang'd, Alas! where to please me my Sandy ance strove! Here, Sandy, I heard the tales that you tauld, Here list'ned too fond whenever you sung; Am I grown less fair then, that you are turn'd cauld? Or, foolish, believ'd a false flattering tongue?
So spoke the fair maid, when sorrow's keen pain, And shame, her last fault'ring accents supprest; For fate, at that moment, brought back her dear swain, Who heard, and with rapture his Nelly addrest: My Nelly I my fair, I come; O my love! Nae power shall thee tear again from my arms, And, Nelly! nae mair thy fond shepherd reprove, Who knows thy fair worth, and adores a' thy charms.
She heard; and new joy shot thro' her saft frame; And will you, my love! be true? she replied: And live I to meet my fond shepherd the same? Or dream I that Sandy will make me his bride? O Nelly! I live to find thee still kind: Still true to thy swain, and lovely as true: Then adieu to a' sorrow; what soul is so blind, As not to live happy for ever with you?
# The Book of Scottish Song/Amang the Heather

Amang the Heather.
[William Cross.—Here first printed.—Tune, "O'er the muir amang the heather."]
Amang the braes aboon Dunoon, In vernal May's delightfu' weather, I met at e'en a bonnie lass Alane amang the blooming heather.
A hame-spun gown and westlin' plaid Was dress enough, she had nae ither, But blythe and comely was her lace, And light her step amang the heather.
I spake her fair, and speert her name, To tell me true she didna swither, But modestly she hung her head, And blush'd an red's the blooming heather.
A bonnie lass and free-han'd lad Maun ha'e a crack when they forgather, Sae down we sat beside a burn That wimpled through the blooming heather.
We spake o' kirks, we spake o' fairs, The sprouting corn, the bonnie weather; O' every thing we talk'd but love, Though love was a' our thoughts thegither. ​Could I keep still my louping heart, Or ae word right put to anither, When for my ain I tried to claim The bonnie lass amang the heather?
Ah no! though lang I ettled sair, My tongue could never slip the tether, But weel the lassie guess'd my mind That night amang the blooming heather.
The balmy air, the glowing sky, The thymey sod, the blooming heather, And sic an angel by my side— I trow 'twas heaven a' thegither!
The night grew late before we wist, It took us hours to part wi' ither; And now she's mine, the bonnie lass That staw my heart amang the heather.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Afton Water

Afton Water.
[Written by Burns, and inserted in Johnson's Museum. Afton Water is a small stream in Ayrshire, on the banks of which stands Afton Lodge, the residence of Mrs. Stewart, who forms the subject of this song. Currie says, "the song was presented to her in return for her notice, the first he ever received from a person in her rank." Burns, in a single couplet, has left an unfading testimony to the virtues of Mrs. Stewart—then residing at Stair. In the "Brigs o' Ayr," she is introduced as one of the allegorical beings who interrupt the conversation between the Brigs:— "Benevolence, with mild benignant air, A female form came from the towers of Stair."]
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream; Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds through the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds, in yon flowery den, Thou green-crested lap-wing, thy screaming forbear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear-winding rills; There daily I wander, as morn rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft. as mild evening creeps o'er the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me, ​Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides! How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gath'ring sweet flow'rets, she stems thy clear wave!
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes; Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Ah, Chloris

Ah, Chloris.
[This elegant lyric appears in the Tea-Table Miscellany, headed Gilderoy, that being the tune to which it is adapted. It has also been copied into most other Scottish collections of songs, and ascribed to President Forbes of Culloden. Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, however, has recently discovered it to belong to Sir Charley's Sedley's play of the Mulberry Tree, which was printed in 1675, before President Forbes was born. It can therefore no longer be admitted with propriety into any Scottish collection, and is only reprinted here for the purpose of correcting a long established error.]
Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit As unconcern'd, as when Your infant beauty could beget No happiness or pain! When I this dawning did admire, And praised the coming day, I little thought that rising fire
Would take my rest away.
Your charms in harmless childhood lay, As metals in a mine; Age from no face takes more away Than youth conceal'd in thine: But as your charms insensibly To their perfection press'd, So love, as unperceived, did fly, And centre in my breast.
My passion with your beauty grew, While Cupid, at my heart, Still, as his mother favoured you, Threw a new flaming dart. Each gloried in their wanton part, To make a lover, he Employ'd the utmost of his art;— To make a beauty, she.
# The Book of Scottish Song/All joy was bereft me

All joy was bereft me.
[This song was written by Sir Walter Scott in the year 1806. If we had not found it in the collected edition of his poems, we would not readily have believed it to be a production of his.]
All joy was bereft me the day that you left me, And climb'd the tall vessel to sail yon wide sea; O weary betide it! I wander'd beside it, And bann'd it for parting my Willie and me.
Far o'er the wave hast thou follow'd my fortune, Oft fought the squadrons of France and of Spain; Ae kiss of welcome's worth twenty at parting, Now I ha'e gotten my Willie again.
When the sky it was mirk, and the winds they were wailing, I sat on the beach wi' the tear in my e'e, And thought o' the bark where my Willie was sailing, And wish'd that the tempest could a' blaw on me.
Now that thy gallant ship rides at her mooring, Now that my wanderer's in safety at hame, Music to me were the wildest winds' roaring, That e'er o'er Inch-Keith drove the dark ocean faem.
When the lights they did blaze, and the guns they did rattle, And blithe was each heart for the great victory, In secret I wept for the dangers of battle, And thy glory itself was scarce comfort to me.
But now shalt thou tell, while I eagerly listen, Of each bold adventure, and every brave scar; And, trust me, I'll smile, thouch my een they may glisten, For sweet after danger's the tale of the war.
And oh, how we doubt when there's distance 'tween lovers, When there's naething to speik to the heart through the e'e, How often the kindest and warmest prove rovers, And the love of the faithfulest ebbs like the sea. ​Till at times—could I help it—I pined and I ponder'd, If love could change notes like the bird on the tree— Now I'll never ask if thine eyes may ha'e wander'd, Enough, thy leal heart has been constant to me.
Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through channel, Hardships and danger despising for fame, Furnishing story for glory's bright annal, Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie and hame!
Enough, now thy story in annals of glory Has humbled the pride of France, Holland, and Spain; No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou leave me, I never will part with my Willie again.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Aikendrum

Aikendrum.
[David Vedder.—First printed anonymously in "The Edinburgh Literary Gazette."]
A warlock cam' to our town, To our town, the slee loon; His beard was grey, his cheeks brown, And he look'd unco glum. ​His cloak of Moffat tartan Hung down beneath his garten,— He cam' to spae my fortune;— His name was Aikendrum.
His brow with time was wrinkled, His hair with grey was sprinkled; But, oh! his een they twinkled Whene'er they gazed on me. Then to the seat he hied him, My titty had supplied him,— I sat me down beside him, Beneath our holly tree.
He took my hand discreetly, And looked right sedately, And scann'd it o'er completely, With monie a haw and hum. With transport then he seized it, And to his lips he raised it, And lovingly he squeezed it— The gallant Aikendrum.
He slippit aff his grey beard, His grey beard, his grey beard— He doffed his cloak—his mask tear'd, And threw 't ayont the lum;— Then sweetly he addressd me, And to his bosom press'd me: 'Twas Jamie that caress'd me!— It wasna Aikendrum!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Allen-a-dale

Allen-a-dale.
[Song in Sir Walter Scott's poem of "Rokeby."]
Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, Allen-a-dale has no furrow for turning, Allen-a-dale has no fleece for the spinning; Yet Allen-a-dale has red gold for the winning. Come read me my riddle, come hearken my tale, And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale.
The baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side, The mere for his net, and the lamb for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame; Yet the fish of the lake, and the dear of the vale, Are less free to lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale.
Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Tho' his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will veil; Who at Rerecross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale.
Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother she asked of his household and home;— "Tho' the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill, My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still, 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles!" said Allen-a-Dale.
The father was steel, and the mother was stone, They lifted the latch and bade him be gone. But loud on the morrow their wail and their cry— He had laughed on the lass with his bonnie black eye; And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Alake for the Lassie

Alake for the Lassie.
[William Laidlaw.]
Alake for the lassie! she's no right at a', That lo'es a dear laddie, an' he far awa'; But the lassie has muckle mair cause to complain, That lo'es a dear lad, when she's no lo'ed again.
The fair was just comin', my heart it grew fain To see my dear laddie, to see him again; My heart it grew fain, an' lap light at the thought Of milkin' the ewes my dear Jamie wad bught.
The bonnie grey morn scarce had open'd her e'e, When we set to the gate a' wi' nae little glee; I was blythe, but my mind oft misga'e me right sair, For I hadna seen Jamie for five months an' mair. ​I' the hirin' right soon my dear Jamie I saw, I saw nae ane like him, sae bonnie an' braw; I watch'd an' baid near him, his motion to see, In hopes aye to catch a kind glance o' his e'e.
He never wad see me in ony ae place: At length I gaed up an' just smiled in his face, I wonder aye yet my heart brackna in twa,— He just said, "How are ye?" and steppit awa'.
My neeber lads strave to entice me awa'; They roos'd me, an' hecht me ilk thing that was braw; But I hatit them a', an' I hatit the fair, For Jamie's behaviour had wounded me sair.
His heart was sae leal, and his manners sae kind!
He's someway gane wrang, he may alter his mind; An' sud he do sae, he's be welcome to me; I'm sure I can never like ony but he.
# St Helena for Bonaparte

St Helena for
BONAPARTE;
To which is added
Go where Glory waits thee,
AND
PEGGY I MUST LOVE THEE.
GLASGOW, Published and Sold, Wholesale and Retail, by R. Hutchison and Co. Saltmarket.
* St Helena for Bonaparte
* Go where Glory waits thee
* Peggy I Must Love Thee
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