OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Philip Dru: Administrator/Chapter LII

Chapter LII The Unity of the Northern Half of the Western Hemisphere Under the New Republic
Seven years had passed since Philip Dru had assumed the administration of the Republic. Seven years of serious work and heavy responsibility. His tenure of power was about to close, to close amidst the plaudits of a triumphant democracy. A Congress and a President had just been elected, and they were soon to assume the functions of government. For four years the States had been running along smoothly and happily under their new constitutions and laws. The courts as modified and adjusted were meeting every expectation, and had justified the change. The revenues, under the new system of taxation, were ample, the taxes were not oppressive, and the people had quickly learned the value of knowing how much and for what they were paying. This, perhaps, more than any other thing, had awakened their interest in public affairs.
The governments, both state and national, were being administered by able, well-paid men who were spurred by the sense of responsibility, and by the knowledge that their constituents were alert and keenly interested in the result of their endeavors.
Some of the recommendations of the many commissions had been modified and others adjusted to suit local conditions, but as a whole there was a general uniformity of statutes throughout the Union, and there was no conflict of laws between the states and the general government.
By negotiations, by purchase and by allowing other powers ample coaling stations along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, the Bahamas, Bermuda and the British, French and Danish West Indies were under American protection, and “Old Glory” was the undisputed emblem of authority in the northern half of the Western Hemisphere.
Foreign and domestic affairs were in so satisfactory a condition that the army had been reduced to two hundred thousand men, and these were broadly scattered from the Arctic Sea to the Canal at Panama. Since the flag was so widely flung, that number was fixed as the minimum to be maintained. In reducing the army, Dru had shown his confidence in the loyalty of the people to him and their satisfaction with the government given them.
Quickened by non-restrictive laws, the Merchant Marine of the United States had increased by leaps and bounds, until its tonnage was sufficient for its own carrying trade and a part of that of other countries.
The American Navy at the close of Philip Dru’s wise administration was second only to that of England, and together the two great English speaking nations held in their keeping the peace and commercial freedom of the Seven Seas.
# Over the Sliprails

OVER THE SLIPRAILS
BY HENRY LAWSON
AUTHOR OF "While the Billy Boils," "When the World was Wide and Other Verses," "On the Track," "Verses: Popular and Humorous," &c.
Sydney ANGUS AND ROBERTSON London: The Australian Book Company 38 West Smithfield 1900
Wersdale, Shoosmith and Co., Printers, 117 Clarence Street, Sydney.
PREFACE
Of the stories in this volume many have already appeared in the columns of the Bulletin. Others appeared originally in the Town and Country Journal, the West Australian and the The Western Mail, while several now appear in print for the first time.
I wish to thank the editors of the papers mentioned for the right to republish in book form.
H. L.
Sydney, June 9th, 1900.
CONTENTS
PAGE
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Leo the Great/Letters/Letter 118

Letter CXVIII.
To the Same Julian, Bishop of Cos.
(In which, after speaking of his own efforts for the Faith, he objects to monks being permitted to preach, especially if heretically inclined, and asks Julian to stir up the Emperor’s zeal for the Faith.)
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Leo the Great/Letters/Letter 116

Letter CXVI.
To Pulcheria Augusta.
(Commending her pious zeal and informing her of his assent to the acts of Chalcedon.)
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Leo the Great/Letters/Letter 115

Letter CXV.
To Marcian Augustus.
(Congratulating him upon the restoration of peace to the Church, and the suppression of the riotous monks; giving his consent also, as a liege subject of the Emperor’s, to the acts of Chalcedon, and asking him to make this known to the Synod.)
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Leo the Great/Letters/Letter 125

Letter CXXV.
To Julian, the Bishop, by Count Rodanus.
(Asking him to write quickly, and not keep him in suspense.)
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Du Maurier

DU MAURIER
TWO rocked his infant cradle as he slept, And crooned for him their native lullabies. One gave her sense of beauty to his eyes, One taught his heart her smiles, the tears she wept. Each made him love her as the child his home, And, mother-wise, reclaimed his wandering glance: Belovèd England and belovèd France,— Each drew him, though, afar, he could not come.
In his imagination, fleur-de-lis And English daisy blossomed side by side, And dreams were his, lost transports to renew. Half exiled wheresoe'er he chanced to be, Like migrant birds his thoughts went soaring wide, Wooed onward by the vision of the True!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Eagles

EAGLES
GIBERT'S BATTLE FOR THE AIR
IT rose, and swam into the sky— The man-made bird; And the great Eagle saw it fly— Saw it, and heard The whirring of its plumeless wings,— The bird that mounts and soars, but never sings!
The falcon-eyes that face the sun Blinked on the flight Of the dread creature that had won The unwelcome right To leave its native earth, and dare Intrude upon the monarch of the Air!
As moved the monoplane, the man, Strange soul of it, Sailing the sea cerulean, The whole of it Seemed his; ay, subject to his sway. Then he beheld—an Eagle in his way!
Awed, each upon the other gazed A moment's space, ​When sudden-swooping talons grazed The pale man face, As the fierce earn, there, mid the skies Struck with blind fury at his rival's eyes.
Up-fluttering, the feathered king Plunged down again. His rushing anger seemed to bring Fate nearer; then The man-bird knew the moment's strife Not for supremacy alone, but life!
With nerve that grows in peril great, He toward him drew A thing to strengthen him with Fate, Whence instant flew A wingèd death, and far behind Headlong the Eagle fell, the abyss to find.
Thy fight was over, glorious bird!— Thy scornful strength Which the sky's sovereignty conferred, Subdued at length,— An autumn leaf against the wind, In conflict with a greater power—called Mind!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Daï Nippon

DÄI NIPPON
APART from all, "Child of the World's old age," Heedful of naught beyond the billowy wall That closely girt her island hermitage, She pondered still with half-averted look, The early lessons of the great World-book, Nor cared to turn the page;
For a strange dread Possessed her. To invoke Aid of her gods she tried,—scarce comforted That countless barrier-waves about her broke; But when with bold command, in Yeddo Bay A squadron anchored—oh, prodigious day!— The Orient awoke!
Though one long blind, At first in fruitless quest Must grope her course, yet, with enlarging mind, She quickly clearer saw; and from her breast ​Sent forth brave sons—of her new hunger taught— Who, one by one returning, to her brought The Wisdom of the West.
Then earth beheld, With awe and wonderment, Goliath by this stripling nation felled, Which—rising by no tedious ascent— Swift as the upward flight of wind-swept flame, Leapt from obscurity to dazzling fame,— Star of the Orient!
And yet she won Sublimer victories, Who, high enlightened all excess to shun, Did not exact remorseless penalties, Nor force a brave and fallen foe to drain Humiliation's brimming cup of pain Down to the poisoned lees.
In lieu of things Ephemeral—less worth, She full revealed the sweep of her strong wings, And gained the suffrage of the grateful earth; ​Choosing, as war should from her realms depart, To give herself to the enduring Art That was her own at birth.
Ah, great Japan,— Who, staying griefs appalling, Approved thyself magnanimous to man,— The World, that long had felt thy charm enthralling, Has laid full many laurels on thy brow; But with a new, diviner accent now She hears the East a-calling!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Dearth

DEARTH
AS one who faring o'er a desert plain Sees fountains clear in the mirage arise, And, parchèd, longs the nectar sweet to gain Which still before him flies— So, wistfully, half doubting, half-believing, Scornful of hope—yet hopeful, self-deceiving, I thirst for love, which wastes before my eyes.
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Deathless Death

DEATHLESS DEATH
IN MEMORY OF RICHARD WATSON GILDER
WE who have seen the seed fall without sound Into the lifeless ground, Through wintry days are tempted to forget How Spring will come with the first violet In her dark hair, Fresh and more fair Than we remembered her, a glad surprise In the veiled azure of her shadowy eyes.
Fear doth the heart deceive, And still we grieve Where we should lift the voice In triumph, and rejoice Amid our sorrow, Because of what the past Has given that is beauteous and shall last— A heritage of blessing for the morrow.
Lo, in what perfect trust Nature confides her darlings to the dust! ​The rose, the crocus, the narcissus sweet, She lays to rest, undoubting, at her feet Who from the meadows bright Was snatched away to rule in the sad light Of Hades, and to learn Its lessons stern. For Nature's faith is deep That, waking from the dark and dreamless sleep, Her flowers toward the sun shall wistful yearn, And in the fragrant breast of Proserpine return.
Ah, lover true of men, Forgive, forgive us, then, If choked by tears we falter in our praise, Remembering that we no more again Shall hold glad converse with your spirit brave, Nor from your lips hear words that lift and save, Through all the lengthening number of our days!
By the great Silence you are set apart From all the restless travail of the heart That beats in us So passionate and strong— Are passed beyond the evening angelus And Memnon's morning song. .........
​Man's life on earth—how brief! Yet we with Nature hold the high belief, E'en when our hearts are breaking, That death is but the vital way, Darkness the shadow of the day, And sleep the door to waking!
And shall we still with tears Pay tribute sad to one whose soul endears Even the dark, dark river it hath crossed? Shall we in grief forget The sweetness and the glory of our debt, And that no good, once given, can be lost?
Distant your dwelling seems, Poet and patriot!—but, ah, your dreams Are living as the flame of sacrifice! Therefore love's roses now We lay amidst the laurel for thy brow, Grateful that souls like yours our earth emparadise.
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Cruel Love—Anacreontic

CRUEL LOVE—ANACREONTIC
I LOOKED from out my window once And saw Love standing there; No cloak had he to cover him, His dimpled feet were bare, And fast and chill the snowflakes fell On his ambrosial hair.
He lifted up to mine a face Filled with celestial light; Fond, fond with pity grew my heart To see his hapless plight, And down I sped to offer him Warm shelter for the night:—
"Come in, come in, thou tender child, A wanderer from thine own! Hath all the world abandoned thee, That thou art thus alone? Come in, come in! that straightway I For others may atone!"
​I took his icy hand in mine,— Why swifter throbbed each vein? Was it the impulse of my blood To ease his frozen pain?— Yet still his lips refused to smile, Still fell his tears like rain.
Bashful he seemed, as half inclined To shiver there apart: I led him closer to the fire, I drew him to my heart: Ah, cruel Love! my trustful breast He wounded with a dart!
Ah, cruel Love! He smiled at last— A wondrous smile to see! And passing from my sheltering door, With step alert and free, He took my warmth, my joy with him,— His tears he left to me!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Ditty: "My True Love's Eyes"

DITTY: MY TRUE LOVE'S EYES
MY true-love's eyes are a surprise To put an end to ranging; They vary so,—come weal, come woe,— One can but watch their changing!
Sometimes they shine with light divine,— Twin deeps where moonbeams hover,— Anon they seem like stars agleam, With laughter brimming over.
My true-love's mouth is as the south In time of blossom, sunny; A rose, in death, bequeathed it breath, And bees have lent it honey.
But oh, her heart is still the art, The magic fresh and living, That wins the free her slaves to be By its own gift of giving!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Divination

DIVINATION
HOW do you know the Spring is nigh, Heart, my heart? Is it a something in the sky? Is it a perfume wafted by? Or is it your own longing's cry— Heart, my heart?
Oh, yes, I know you 've ways to tell, Heart, my heart, When Spring released from Winter's spell Sows amaranth and asphodel: Ways tender and impalpable, Heart, my heart:
Signs that have never yet betrayed, Heart, my heart:— The bluebird's note in a leafless glade, An answering rapture, half afraid, The dream-filled eyes of a shy, sweet maid,— Heart, my heart!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Dryad Song

DRYAD SONG
WHEN the wolds of Lycæus are silvery fair, When Mænalian forests are doubtful and dim, When the hound strains the leash and the wolf quits his lair, And the startled fawn flies from the fountain's cool rim; When with panting delight we impatiently follow The shuddering stags over hillock and hollow,— A form from the shadows comes bounding out, And we know it is Pan by his horrid shout:
A form from the shadows comes bounding out, At head of the Satyrs' impetuous rout, And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, We know it is Pan by his horrid shout!
When hidden with Dian in deep woodland bower, We loosen her quiver, her sandals unbind, Bathe her beautiful feet in the pearl-trickling shower, Pellucid and pure; when we deftly enwind ​The silvery fillet that clasps and caresses The wonder and wealth of her shadowy tresses,— A face through the pleachèd blooms stealthily peers, And we know it is Pan by his furry ears:
A face through the pleachèd blooms stealthily peers, Makes mouths to affright us, then mocks at our fears, And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, We know it is Pan by his furry ears!
When, shunning the shafts of Apollo at noon, To the kindly green coverts we thankfully creep, Athirst for fresh runnels, and ready to swoon,— Oft, sudden we come to one fallen asleep: Fallen asleep mid the tangle and grasses That trip up the confident clown as he passes, And fearful we peep at the form supine, For we know it is Pan, though he makes no sign.
And fearful we peep at the form supine, With the hoofs of a goat and the brow divine, For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan, We know it is Pan, though he makes no sign!
​When the shepherds are gone from the sunset hills, When evening is mildest in dingle and dale, Through the hush comes a sound that enraptures and thrills, Light wafted along on the tremulous gale: So passionate-sweet, so wildly out-welling, That Ladon hears it with bosom swelling. We listen and sigh,—sigh and listen again, For we know it is Pan by that melting strain!
We listen and sigh,—sigh and listen again, While the lithe reeds quiver as if in pain,— For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
# Pattee Plow Company v. Kingman

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
129 U.S. 294
Pattee Plow Company v. Kingman
John R. Bennett, for appellant.
L. L. Bond and E. A. West, for appellees.
FULLER, C. J.

## 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
# Panama

"Two towers the old Cathedral lifts"
* Edmund Clarence Stedman (1897), "Panama" in Poems, now first collected.
* Edmund Clarence Stedman (1908), "Panama" in The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman.
# Pan Tadeusz (1917)/Preface

PREFACE
The present translation of Pan Tadeusz is based on the editions of Biegeleisen (Lemberg, 1893) and Kallenbach (Brody, 1911). I have had constantly by me the German translation by Lipiner (ed. 2, Leipzig, 1898) and the French translation by Ostrowski (ed. 4, Paris, 1859), and am deeply indebted to them. The English translation by Miss Maude Ashurst Biggs (Master Thaddeus; or, The Last Foray in Lithuania: London, 1885) I did not have at hand until my own version was nearly complete; after that I consulted it only very rarely. I do not think that I am under obligation to it in more than a half-dozen scattered lines of my text. (Perhaps, however, my use of foray as a translation of zajazd is due to an unconscious recollection of the title of Miss Biggs's volumes, which I looked over several years ago, before I had even formed the plan of my own work.) In my notes, however, my debt to Miss Biggs and her collaborators in her commentary on Pan Tadeusz is important; I have striven to indicate it distinctly, and I thank Miss Biggs heartily for her kind permission to make use of her work.
To my friend Miss Mary Helen Sznyter I am grateful for aid and advice in the rendering of several puzzling passages. But my greatest debt I owe to my wife, whose name, if justice were done, should be added to my ​own as joint translator of the volume. Though she is entirely unacquainted with the Polish language, nearly every page of the book in its phrasing bears traces of her correcting hand. The preparation of the volume for the press and the reading of the proof have been made easy by her skilful help.
December 9, 1916
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in Friendship's Offering, 1826/The Child's Last Sleep

* SLEEPING CHILD
* After Chantrey
* Drawn by H. CorbouldEngraved by W. T. Fry
THE CHILD'S LAST SLEEP.
The lovely child is dead!
All, all his innocent thoughts, like rose-leaves, scattered,
And his glad childhood nothing but a dream!
Wilson.
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-sealed eyes!
Mournful, though 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 o'er thy pale brow, yet;
Love, with sad kisses—unfelt—hath prest
Thy meek drooped eyelids, and quiet breast;—
And the glad spring, calling out bird and bee,
Shall colour all blossoms, fair child, but thee! Thou art gone from us, bright one!—that thou should'st die,
And life he left to the butterfly!
Thou art gone, as a dew-drop is blown 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 even joy but a trembler be,
Beautiful dust! when we look on thee!
F. H.
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in Friendship's Offering, 1826/The Last Wish

THE LAST WISH.
Go to the forest shade; Seek thou the well-known glade
Where, heavy with sweet dew, the violets lie,
Gleaming through moss-tufts deep,
Like dark eyes filled with sleep,
And bathed in hues of summer's midnight sky.
Bring me their buds, to shed
Around my dying bed,
A breath of May, and of the wood's repose;
For I, in sooth, depart
With a reluctant heart,
That fain would linger where the bright sun glows.
Fain would I stay with thee,—
Alas! this must not be;
Yet bring me still the gifts of happier hours!
Go where the fountain's breast
Catches, in glassy rest,
The dim green light that pours through laurel bowers.
I know how softly bright,
Steeped in that tender light,
The water-lilies tremble there, e'en now;
Go to the pure stream's edge,
And, from its whispering sedge,
Bring me those flowers, to cool my fevered brow.
Then,—as in Hope's young days,—
Track thou the antique maze
Of the rich garden, to its grassy mound;
There is a lone white rose,
Shedding, in sudden snows,
Its faint leaves o'er the emerald turf around!
Well know'st thou that fair tree!
—A murmur of the bee
Dwells, ever, in the honied lime above;
Bring me one pearly flower,
Of all its clustering shower,—
For, on that spot we first revealed our love!
Gather one woodbine bough,
Then, from the lattice low
Of the bowered cottage which I bade thee mark,
When, by the hamlet, last,
Through dim wood-lanes, we passed,
Where dews were glancing to the glow-worm's spark.
Haste! to my pillow bear
Those fragrant things, and fair;—
My hand no more may bind them up at eve;
Yet shall their odour soft
One bright dream round me waft,
Of life, youth, summer,—all that I must leave!
And oh! if thou would'st ask
Wherefore thy steps I task
The grove, the stream, the hamlet-vale to trace; 'Tis that some thought of me —When I am gone,—may be
The spirit bound to each familiar place.
I bid mine image dwell,
(Oh! break thou not the spell!)
In the deep wood, and by the fountain side!
Thou must not, my beloved!
Rove where we two have roved,
Forgetting her that in her spring-time died!
F. H.
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in Friendship's Offering, 1827

This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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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.
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Poems of Felicia Hemans in Friendship’s Offering, 1827
compiled from other sources by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Brigand Leader and his Wife
* Last Rites
* Fading Flowers
* The Tomb of Madame Langhans