OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Southcott, Joanna

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SOUTHCOTT, JOANNA,
A fanatic, was born, in April, 1750, in the west of England. Her parents were poor, and she was for many years a servant early in life she indulged in visionary feelings; but when she was forty-two, she claimed the character of a prophetess. For more than twenty years from that time, she continued to pour forth unintelligible rhapsodies, by which she succeeded in making many dupes. At length, mistaking disease for pregnancy, she announced that she was to be the mother of the promised Shiloh; and great preparations were made for his reception by her deluded followers. She, however, died of the malady, December 27, 1814. Her sect is not even yet extinct.
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Southey, Caroline Anne

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SOUTHEY, CAROLINE ANNE,
Better known in the literary world as Caroline Bowles, an English poetess of fine genius and tender piety, was born about the close of the last century. Her father was of an eminent family in the county of Wilts., and vicar of a parish in Northamptonshire: he gave his daughter an excellent education. Her talent for poetry was cultivated by her elder brother, the Rev. William Lisle Bowles, himself a master of the Christian lyre. Miss Bowles profited by these advantages and encouragements, and in 1820 her first work, "Ellen Fitzarthur," was published. Her next was "The Winter's Tale, and other Poems," in 1822, which was well approved. In 1836, "The Birthday, and other Poems," "A Collection of Prose and Poetical Pieces," "Solitary Hours," &c.
In 1839, Miss Bowles became the second wife of Robert Southey, the poet whom she tended, during his declining and infirm age, with the tenderness and sweet sympathy which kindred taste, admiring affection, and Christian love inspired. He died in 1843. Mrs Southey has written little under her present name, but her ​early productions are sufficient to place her among the best poets of her sex.
"All high poetry must be religious," says Professor Wilson; and who that is conscious of possessing a soul that longs for immortality but feels the truth of this doctrine? There is an aspiration in every mind for something higher, better, lovelier than can be found on earth; and it is the holiest office of poesy to embody in language those vague yearnings for happiness and purity; and paint, on the dark and torn canvas of human life, transparent and glowing pictures of heavenly beauty and tranquillity. Few writers have done this with more effect than Mrs. Southey. There is a sincerity, a devotedness, ay, and an enjoyment too, in her religions musings, which shows that Christian feeling has elevated the poetic sentiment in her heart till she can sing of the "better land" with the sure and sweet conviction of its reality and blessedness. In private life Mrs. Southey is the Christian lady, doing good and communicating happiness in her domestic pursuits as she does by her literary talents.
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Southworth, Emma D. E. Nevitte

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SOUTHWORTH, EMMA D. E. NEVITTE,
Is the daughter of the late Charles Le Compe Nevitte and Susannah George Wailes, of St. Mary's, Maryland. On either side, her ancestors were French and English Roman Catholics, who came to America in 1632, with Calvert, and settled at St. Mary's, the first settlement in Maryland, where they became extensive land-holders. Here they continued to reside for nearly two hundred years, holding honourable posts, and taking an active part in the government of the province and the state. At the age of four. Miss Nevitte lost her father, and after that event resided with her grandmother, Mrs. Wailes, a Maryland lady of the old school, and a worthy member of the Episcopal church. Her mother was married a second time, to Joshua L. Henshaw, Esq., formerly of Boston; and to his personal instruction his step-daughter is indebted for all the education she received. In 1841, Miss Nevitte became Mrs. Southworth; and in 1843, by a sudden and overwhelming misfortune, she was left; destitute, with two infants to maintain. In 1846, she wrote her first sketch, and published it anonymously; her second story she sent to the "National Era," and its editor. Dr. Bailey, not only approved the sketch, but saw so clearly the genius and power manifested by it, that he sought out the writer, and, by his encouragement, induced her to venture more boldly on the thorny path of authorship. Her principal productions are "Retribution, or The Vale of Shadows," 1849; "The Deserted Wife," 1850; "The Mother-in-Law, or The Isle of Rays," and "Shannondale," published in 1851. She has also written several very interesting tales and sketches for periodicals.
Mrs. Southworth is yet young, both as a woman and an author; but she is a writer of great promise, and we have reason to expect that the future productions of her pen will surpass those works with which she has already favoured the reading public—works showing great powers of the imagination, and strength and depth of feeling, it is true, but also written in a wild and extravagant manner, and occasionally with a freedom of expression that almost borders on impiety. This we are constrained to say, though we feel assured that no one would shrink more reluctantly than the young writer herself from coolly and calmly approaching, with too familiar a ​hand, the Persons and places held sacred by all the Christian world. She seems carried, by a fervid imagination, in an enthusiasm for depicting character as it is actually found, (in which she excels,) beyond the limits prescribed by correct taste or good judgment. In other respects her novels are deeply interesting. They show, in every page, the hand of a writer of unusual genius and ability. In descriptions of Southern life, and of negro character and mode of expression, she is unequalled. She writes evidently from a full heart and an overflowing brain, and sends her works forth to the criticisms of an unimpassioned public without the advantage they would receive from a revision, and careful pruning, in some moment when calmer reflection was in the ascendancy.
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/St. Cecilia

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ST. CECILIA,
The patroness of music, is said to have been a Roman lady, born about the year 235. Her story, as related by the Roman Catholics, is, that her parents married her to a young pagan nobleman, Valerianus. Cecilia told him, on her wedding-night, that she was visited nightly by an angel. Valerianus desired to see the angel; but his bride told him that it would be impossible, unless he would become a Christian. This he consented to, and was baptized by Pope Urban the First; after which, returning to his wife, he found her at prayer, and by her side a beautiful young man, clothed with brightness. Valerianus conversed with the angel, who foretold his martyrdom, and that of his brother, Tiburtius. In a few years, ​Valerianos and Tibartius were beheaded. Cecilia was offered her life, if she would sacrifice to the idols; bat she refused, and was thrown into a caldron of boiling water. St. Cecilia is said to hare excelled so greatly in music, as to have drawn the angel from the celestial regions by her melody.
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Sophia

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SOPHIA,
Of Hispali, was a Spanish-Arabian lady, celebrated for her poetry and oratory. She died in 1039. None of her writings are now extant. She had a sister, Maria, who was also a poet and a learned lady.
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Sophonisba

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SOPHONISBA,
Daughter of Asdrubal, the celebrated Carthaginian general, a lady of uncommon beauty and accomplishments, married Syphax, a Numidian prince, who was totally defeated by the combined forces of his rival, Massinissa, and the Romans. On this occasion, Sophonisba fell into the hands of Massinissa, who, captivated by her beauty, married her, on the death of Syphax, which occurred soon after at Rome. But this act displeased the Romans, because Sophonisba was a Carthaginian princess, and Massinissa had not asked their consent. The elder Scipio Africanus ordered the timid Numidian monarch to dismiss Sophonisba; and the cowardly king, instead of resenting the insult, and joining the Carthaginians against the Romans, sent his wife a cup of poison, advising her to die like the daughter of Asdrubal. She drank the poison with calmness and serenity, about B. C. 203.
# A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Souza, Maria Flahault de

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SOUZA, MARIA FLAHAULT DE,
Was born at Paris. She married the Chevalier de Souza, ambassador from Portugal to the court of France, and editor of a fine edition of Camoens. Madame de Souza, at that time a widow, was among the noble emigrants who sought shelter in England, from the revolutionary storms of 1789. She had been admired as a brilliant woman of fashion; and it has been said of her, that it was only "necessity, the mother of invention" that had converted her into a successful author.
Her earliest work, "Charles and Marie," was published by subscription in London, and was, in point of time, one of the very first fictions noticed by the Edinburgh Review. Madame de Souza, being on terms of intimacy with Talleyrand, obtained permission to return to France. On being presented to Napoleon, he graciously asked which among her works was her favourite. "Mon meilleur ouvrage, sire, le voice," she replied, introducing her son, the handsome and animated Charles de Flahault, who was soon afterwards appointed aid-de-camp to the emperor, and accompanied him through all his campaigns. The most esteemed of Madame de Souza's novels are, "Eugène de Rothelin," and "Adèle de Senange," both distinguished for moral purity, and a particular delicacy of thought; these books were much admired by the celebrated Charles James Fox. Madame de Souza was educated at that period preceding the revolution, when ladies of rank were taught, at their convents, very little more than to shine in a drawing-room. Madame de Genlis relates, in her entertaining memoirs, the pains she took to induce the Duchess de Chartres, and some other court dames, to learn a little orthography. Their expressions were choice, and their style in speaking faultless; but alas I they could not spell! Madame de Souza used, ingenuously, to avow that this defect of her early education she bad never been able to remedy. At the same time, the critics allow that her French is a model of ease and purity. She died in 1836, at her hotel, Fauboug St. Honoré, surrounded by many attached friends and relatives, having lived to see her grand-children grown up, and her son reinstated in his rank, at the court of the Tuilleries.
# A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature/ע

    ע - עבד
    עבד - עבה
    עבה - עבורא
    עבורא - עבירא
    עבירא - עבר
    עבר - עבר
    עבר - עגול
    עגול - עגם
    עגם - עדא
    עדא - עדי
    עדי - עדן
    עדן - עדר
    עדר - עובטין
    עובטין - עוגיתא
    עוגיתא - עוז
    עוז - עוכבניין
    עוכבניין - עולבן
    עולבן - עוללתא
    עוללתא - עומה
    עומה - עון
    עון - עונה
    עונה - עופרת
    עופרת - עוקסא
    עוקסא - עור
    עור - עורלה
    עורלה - עות
    עות - עזב
    עזב - עזלא
    עזלא - עטא
    עטא - עטף
    עטף - עטר
    עטר - עיבור
    עיבור - עיגון
    עיגון - עיון
    עיון - עייט
    עייט - עילבו
    עילבו - עימסוני
    עימסוני - עינב
    עינב - עיסוק
    עיסוק - עיצור
    עיצור - עיקר
    עיקר - עירובא
    עירובא - עיררה
    עיררה - עכבח
    עכבח - עכל
    עכל - עכשבוניתא
    עכשבוניתא - עלובא
    עלובא - עלי
    עלי - עליותא
    עליותא - עלל
    עלל - עלמה
    עלמה - עם
    עם - עמוד
    עמוד - עמידה
    עמידה - עמל
    עמל - עמס
    עמס - עמר
    עמר - ענג
    ענג - ענותנותא
    ענותנותא - עני
    עני - עניותא
    עניותא - עננא
    עננא - ענש
    ענש - עסיא
    עסיא - עסק
    עסק - עפייץ
    עפייץ - עץ
    עץ - עצה
    עצה - עצם
    עצם - עצרתא
    עצרתא - עקד
    עקד - עקים
    עקים - עקם
    עקם - עקץ
    עקץ - עקרא
    עקרא - ערב
    ערב - ערבא
    ערבא - ערבב
    ערבב - ערבונא
    ערבונא - ערד
    ערד - ערוי
    ערוי - ערטיליותא
    ערטיליותא - עריא
    עריא - עריסות
    עריסות - ערכאה
    ערכאה - ערכות
    ערכות - ערס
    ערס - ערער
    ערער - ערפל
    ערפל - ערר
    ערר - עשי
    עשי - עשיר
    עשיר - עשר
    עשר - עששית
    עששית - עתה
    עתה - ף
# A Highland Regiment/Three Songs from the Remembered Gods

Mackintosh later wrote a play called The Remembered Gods
Angus' Song
ARE the gods forgotten in Morven of the hinds,
 The beauty that slew men the golden eyes that sh(
The gods that will be walking on the rocks of the winds
 That little men would die for the love of looking on ?
Are the gods forgotten in Morven of the stags.
 The old gods, the fair gods that were too high for love.
The white feet pressing on the grasses of the crags.
 The black hair hidden in the black clouds above ?
The gods are forgotten in Morven of the glens,
 The sun shines brightly and gentle is the day.
Like snow in summer corries, like mist upon the bens,
 The lovely gods of darkness are vanished away.
 Alastair's Song
Summer is gone at last and autumn leaves are falling,
 And through the naked trees the wind is breathing low.
Let us arise and go for the old gods are calling,
 The beautiful cruel gods we loved so long ago.
Let us arise and go, for far beyond the city
 We hear the old gods singing the years from which we came.
The merry heartless years that knew not pain or pity,
 The happy lustful years that knew not fear or shame.
The bitter music calls, and we must follow after.
 Back through the gentler years to the old time again.
To wake their lovely mirth, to move the gods to laughter.
 This is the end of man, the full reward of pain.
The golden eyes aglow, the silver laughter ringing,
 Shall we not suffer pain for lovely things as these ?
Let us arise and go, for the old gods are singing.
 The beautiful cruel gods that mock our miseries.
 The Memory Song
Long ago beneath the moon
In a corrie of the hills
We forgot our ancient ills
Dancing to a wizard tune.
We remembered song and spell
Chanted in a Lochlainn rune,
Flower of Morven, it was well
Long ago beneath the moon.
Now the moon is full again,
And the song of Angus cries
Underneath the summer skies
Till the nights of summer wane.
Follow now while still you may.
Ere his music calls in vain,
When the harps of Angus play
Now the moon is full again.
Flower of Morven, long ago
In the corrie where we met,
Did you think you could forget,
Did you dream you would not know
Lips that sang the lover's tune,
And the heart that loved you so ?
Did forgetfukiess come soon,
Flawer of Morven, long ago ?
Oh, remember me once more,
Now the mist is on the hills
And the harp of Angus thrills
Moaning waves along the shore,
For the songs I made for you.
For the love that was before,
For the heart that still is true.
Oh, remember me once more.
# A Highland Regiment/The Heartless Voice

YOUR voice is like the fairy harps
 The wandering shepherd hears,
That tell of laughter without joy,
 And light unsaddened tears.
You laugh and I can never tell
 If you are glad or no.
You weep and cannot understand
 The things that hurt me so.
But still your eager, heartless voice
 Is calling night and day,
And I must follow like the men
 That hear the fairies play.
1914
# A Highland Regiment/The Last Meeting

LAST time you met me shadowed white,
 A very queen for stateliness,
And all the jewels of the night
 Were tangled in your ivory dress.
Your eyes were strange, your lovely smile
 As though we never met before —
I saw you such a little while,
 Who shall not see you evermore.
God knows the gates were strong between.
 But still my trumpet might have blown
Had you not looked so great a queen.
 Had I but seen you all alone.
But there we sat the dinner through
 And talked like strangers of the war.
I only spoke an hour with you.
 Who now shall speak with you no more.
Maybe I waited over-long,
 You spoke no word to tell me so.
Perhaps the gates might be too strong
 For any blast that I could blow
Ah well, it hardly matters now,
 My whispering ghost drifts through the rain,
The shroud of death is at my brow,
 I shall not come to you again.
1915
# A Highland Regiment/The Kingdom of the Downs

BEYOND the woodland's shading,
 Beyond the sun-kissed field,
Where laughs in joy unfading
 The garden of the weald,
Look southward where uplifted
 Against the shining skies.
In secret vesture shifted,
 The silent Downs arise.
Until you see delusive
 Flash from the guardian down
A visioned land elusive,
 Dream of an unknown town,
And longing for the wonder,
 Strive what you dare not ask,
To rend the veil asunder
 And pluck away the mask.
Oh keep your spirit's vision
 Although your eyes be blind,
Nor tempt the gods* derision
 Of him that cannot find,
Lest you should lose the city
 That once afar you saw,
And with it lose — ah, pity I —
 All that was yours before.
Better dream on for ever
 What once you dreamt was true.
Ere knowledge can dissever
 Your visioned truth from you,
And from the wealden gazing
 Watch how the sunset crowns
With dreamful beacons blazing
 Your kingdom of the Downs.
In the Train, 1911
# A Highland Regiment/The Lost Lands

"OH where are the old kingdoms,
 Where is the ancient way.
And the remembered city
 Where once I used to play ? "
" You stand within the kingdom,
 You walk the city's street,
And still there throng about you
 The folk you used to meet."
" Where are the merry voices
 And laughter trouble-free.
And where are my old comrades
 That used to play with me ? "
" Their merry voices call you
 But you will not reply.
They touch your hand in welcome,
 But now you pass them by."
" Where is my love departed
 With her delightful eyes.
And heart too free for sorrow,
 And lips too proud for sighs ? "
" Along the road beside you
 Your true love walks and near,
But she may call for ever.
 And you will never hear."
Oxford, 1915
# A Highland Regiment/Sonnet

EACH time we meet, my dear, I fancy you,
 A maiden both familiar and strange,
For still I see a girl I never knew
 And see my own dear love without a change ;
And while young love is born within my heart,
 As on his birthday half a year ago,
I mourn that we are kept so long apart.
 And welcome joyfully the love I know.
As when a rover under foreign skies
 From some clear hill beholds a smiling plain.
And long-forgotten meadows meet his eyes.
 And memory awakens in his brain,
And suddenly he sees with glad surprise
 The open doorway of his home again.
Oxford, 1913
# A Highland Regiment/The Volunteer

I TOOK my heart from the fire of love,
Molten and warm not yet shaped clear.
And tempered it to steel of proof
Upon the anvil-block of fear.
With steady hammer-strokes I made
A weapon ready for the fight,
And fashioned like a dagger-blade
Narrow and pitiless and bright.
Cleanly and tearlessly it slew,
But as the heavy days went on
The fire that once had warmed it grew
Duller, and presently was gone.
Oh, innocence and lost desire,
I strive to kindle you in vain,
Dead embers of a greying fire.
I cannot melt my heart again.
1914-1916
# A Nation Once Again
### I

    When boyhood's fire was in my blood
    I read of ancient freemen,
    For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
    Three Hundred Men and Three Men.
    And then I prayed I yet might see
    Our fetters rent in twain,
    And Ireland, long a province, be
    A Nation Once Again.

### II

    And, from that time, through wildest woe.
    That hope has shone, a far light;
    Nor could love's brightest summer glow
    Outshine that solemn starlight.
    It seemed to watch above my head
    In forum, field, and fane;
    Its angel voice sang round my bed,
    "A Nation Once Again."

### III

    It whispered, too, that "freedom's ark
    And service high and holy,
    Would be profaned by feelings dark
    And passions vain or lowly:
    For freedom comes from God's right hand,
    And needs a godly train;
    And righteous men must make our land
    A Nation Once Again."

### IV

    So, as I grew from boy to man,
    I bent me to that bidding—
    My spirit of each selfish plan
    And cruel passion ridding;
    For, thus I hoped some day to aid—
    Oh! can such hope be vain ?—
    When my dear country shall be made
    A Nation Once Again.

## Source

* The poems of Thomas Davis: now first collected. With notes and historical illustrations pp.73-4 By Thomas Osborne Davis Published by James Duffy, 1857
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
# A Narrow Window

"A narrow window may let in the light"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1912), "A Narrow Window" in The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "A Narrow Window" in Poems II.
# A Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Venture/Preface

The following account of the life of VENTURE, is a relation of simple facts, in which nothing is in substance to what he relates himself. Many other interesting and curious passages of his life might have been inserted, but on account of the bulk to which they must necessarily have swelled this narrative, they were omitted. If any should suspect the truth of what is here related, they are referred to people now living who are acquainted with most of the facts mentioned in this narrative.
The reader is here presented with an account, not of a renowned politician or warrior, but of an untutored African slave, brought into this Christian country at eight years of age, wholly destitute of all education but what he received in common with other domesticated animals, enjoying no advantages that could lead him to suppose himself superior to the beasts, his fellow servants. And if he shall enjoy no other advantage from perusing this narrative, he may experience those sensations of shame and indignation, that will prove him to be not wholly destitute of every noble and generous feeling.
The subject of the following pages, had he received only a common education, might have been a man of high respectability and usefulness; and had his education been suited to his genius, he might have been an ornament and an honor to human nature. It may perhaps, not be unpleasing to see the efforts of a great mind wholly uncultivated, enfeebled and depressed by slavery, and struggling under every disadvantage. The reader may here see a Franklin and a Washington, in a state of nature, or rather, in a state of slavery. Destitute as he is of all education, he still exhibits striking traces of native ingenuity and good sense.
This narrative exhibits a pattern of honesty, prudence, and industry, to people of his own colour; and perhaps some white people would not find themselves degraded by imitating such an example.
The following account is published in compliance with the earnest desire of the subject of it, and likewise a number of respectable persons who are acquainted with him.
# A Nation in Making

​Page:A Nation in Making.djvu/4
A NATION IN MAKING
being the reminiscences of fifty years of public life
SIR SURENDRANATH BANERJEA
Oxford University Press bombay calcutta madras
​Page:A Nation in Making.djvu/9
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This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1925, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 98 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse