OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/Gipsy Song

GIPSY SONG.
In the drizzling mist, with the snow high-piled, In the winter night, in the forest wild, I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl, I heard the screaming note of the owl: Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu!
I shot, one day, a cat in the ditch— The dear black cat of Anna the witch; Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down, Seven women they were, from out of the town. Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu!
I knew them all; ay, I knew them straight; First, Anna, then Ursula, Eve, and Kate, And Barbara, Lizzy, and Bet as well: And forming a ring, they began to yell: Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu!
Then called I their names with angry threat: "What wouldst thou, Anna? What wouldst thou, Bet?" ​At hearing my voice, themselves they shook, And howling and yelling, to flight they took. Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu!
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/From Götz Von Berlichingen

FROM GÖTZ VON BERLICHINGEN.
ACT II.
Leibetraut plays and sings.
His bow and dart bearing, And torch brightly flaring, Dan Cupid on flies; With victory laden, To vanquish each maiden He roguishly tries. Up! up! On! on! ​His arms rattle loudly, His wings rustle proudly, And flames fill his eyes.
Then finds he each bosom Defenceless and bare; They gladly receive him And welcome him there. The point of his arrows He lights in the glow; They clasp him and kiss him And fondle him so. Hei ei o! Popeio!
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/God, Soul and World

RHYMED DISTICHS.
[The Distichs, of which these are given as a specimen, are about forty in number.]
How? when? and where?—No answer comes from high; Thou waitest for the Because, and yet thou askest not Why?
If the whole is ever to gladden thee, That whole in the smallest thing thou must see.
Water its living strength first shows, When obstacles its course oppose.
Transparent appears the radiant air, Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear; At length they'll meet with fiery power, And metal and stones on the earth will shower.
Whate'er a living flame may surround, No longer is shapeless, or earthly bound. 'Tis now invisible, flies from earth, And hastens on high to the place of its birth.
This truth may be by all believed: Whom God deceives, is well deceived.
Who trusts in God, Fears not His rod.
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship

FROM WILHELM MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
BOOK II. CHAP. XIII.
RETRIBUTION.
He that with tears did never eat his bread, He that hath never lain through night's long hours, Weeping in bitter anguish on his bed— He knows ye not, ye dread celestial powers. Ye lead us onward into life. Ye leave The wretch to fall; then yield him up, in woe, Remorse, and pain, unceasingly to grieve; For every sin is punished here below.
Who gives himself to solitude, Soon lonely will remain; Each lives, each loves in joyous mood, And leaves him to his pain. Yes! leave me to my grief! Were solitude's rellef E'er granted me, Alone I should not be.
A lover steals, on footstep light, To learn if his love's alone; Thus o'er me steals, by day and night, Anguish before unknown; Thus o'er me steals deep grief. Ah, when I find relief Within the tomb so lonely, Will rest be met with only!
BOOK IV. CHAP. XI.
My grief no mortals know, Except the yearning! Alone, a prey to woe, All pleasure spurning, Up towards the sky I throw A gaze discerning.
He who my love can know Seems ne'er returning; With strange and fiery glow My heart is burning. My griefs no mortals know, Except the yearning!
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/Ganymede

GANYMEDE.
How, in the light of morning, Round me thou glowest, Spring, thou beloved one! With thousand-varying loving bliss The sacred emotions Born of thy warmth eternal Press 'gainst my bosom, Thou endlessly fair one! Could I but hold thee clasped Within mine arms!
Ah ! upon thy bosom Lay I, pining.
​And then thy flowers, thy grass, Were pressing against my heart. Thou coolest the burning Thirst of my bosom, Beauteous morning breeze! The nightingale then calls me Sweetly from out of the misty vale. I come, I come! Whither? Ah, whither?
Up, up, lies my course. While downward the clouds Are hovering, the clouds Are bending to meet yearning love. For me, Within thine arms Upwards! Embraced and embracing! Upwards into thy bosom, O Father, all-loving!
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/Growth

GROWTH.
O'er field and plain, in childhood's artless days, Thou sprangest with me on many a spring-morn fair, "For such a daughter, with what pleasing care, Would I, as father, happy dwellings raise?"
And when thou on the world didst cast thy gaze, Thy joy was then in household toils to share. "Why did I trust her, why she trust me e'er? For such a sister, how I Heaven should praise!"
Nothing can now the beauteous growth retard; Love's glowing flame within my breast is fanned. Shall I embrace her form, my grief to end? Thee as a queen must I, alas, regard: So high above me placed thou seemest to stand; Before a passing look I meekly bend.
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/General Confession

GENERAL CONFESSION.
In this noble ring to-day Let my warning shame ye! Listen to my solemn voice,— Seldom does it name ye. Many a thing have ye intended, Many a thing have badly ended, And now I must blame ye.
At some moment in our lives We must all repent us! So confess, with pious trust, All your sins momentous! Error's crooked pathways shunning, Let us, on the straight road running, Honestly content us!
Yes! we've oft, when waking, dreamed Let's confess it rightly; Left undrained the brimming cup, When it sparkled brightly; Many a shepherd's-hour's soft blisses, Many a dear mouth's flying kisses We've neglected lightly.
Mute and silent have we sat, Whilst the blockheads prated, ​And above e'en song divine Have their babblings rated; To account we've even called us For the moments that enthralled us With enjoyment freighted.
If thou'lt absolution grant To thy true ones ever, We, to execute thy will, Ceaseless will endeavour, From half-measures strive to wean us, Wholly, fairly, well demean us, Resting, flagging never.
At all blockheads we'll at once Let our laugh ring clearly, And the pearly-foaming wine Never sip at merely. Ne'er with eye alone give kisses. But with boldness suck in blisses From those lips loved dearly.
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/Genial Impulse

GENIAL IMPULSE.
Thus roll I, never taking ease, My tub, like Saint Diogenes, Now serious am, now seek to please, Now love and hate in turns one sees; The motives now are those, now these; Now nothings, now realities. Thus roll I, never taking ease, My tub, like Saint Diogenes.
# The Wind (Teasdale)

* Teasdale, Sara (1911), "The Wind" in Helen of Troy and Other Poems.
* Teasdale, Sara (1917), "The Wind" in Love Songs.
# The Wind Among the Reeds/A Poet to his Beloved

A POET TO HIS BELOVED
I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams;
White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-gray sands, And with heart more old than the horn That is brimmed from the pale ﬁre of time: White woman with numberless dreams I bring you my passionate rhyme.
# The Wind Among the Reeds/Aedh gives his Beloved certain Rhymes

AEDH GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES
Fasten your hair with a golden pin, And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes: It worked at them, day out, day in, Building a sorrowful loveliness Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand, And bind up your long hair and sigh; And all men's hearts must burn and heat; And candle-like foam on the dim sand, And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky, Live but to light your passing feet.
# The Wind (Alecsandri)

A merciless young rascal is the Wind. His chief delight
Is to worry ships at sea with savage storms by day and night,
Like a dog-wolf harrying sheep, he chases clouds and scatters showers,
Lays the stately oak-trees low, and snaps the stems of fragile flowers.
A brand he whirls aloft and drops among the farmer's gear,
Chuckling to see the flames consume the produce of a year ;
Then swoops down on a group of girls — deranges all their dresses,
Tears off their silken 'kerchiefs, and their snowy necks caresses.
In all four quarters of the globe he blusters and he raves,
Upsetting, pagan-like, the crosses set o'er Christian graves; —
Pursued by curses of the dead, through brake and bush he tries
To dash, all reckless of the thorns that tear him as he flies.
His abode is in the forest. There arrived, his mother dear
Bathes his hurts in milk, and chides him, shedding many a bitter tear, "
Weep no more, my mammy sweet," he cries, " I know that I have sinned —
But when I kiss their pretty eyes, the girls all love the wind ! "
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
# The Wind (Chivers)

Thou wringest, with thy invisible hand, the foam  Out of the emerald drapery of the sea, Beneath whose foldings lies the Sea-Nymph's home—  Lifted, to make it visible, by thee; Till thou art exiled, earthward, from the maine, To cool the parched tongue of the Earth with rain.
Thy viewless wing sweeps, with its tireless flight,  Whole Navies from their boundings on the waves— Wrapping the canvas, pregnant with thy might,  Around the seamen in their watery graves! Till thou dost fall asleep upon the grass, And then the ocean is as smooth as glass.
Thou art the Gardner of the flowery earth—  The Sower in the spring-time of the year— Clearing plantations, in thy goings forth,  Amid the wilderness, where all is drear— Scattering ten thousand giant oaks around, Like playthings, on the dark, opprobrious ground.
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
# The Wind Among the Reeds

The Wind Among the Reeds
By the Same Author
The Secret Rose The Celtic Twilight John Sherman
The Wind
Among the Reeds
by
W. B. YEATS
LONDON: ELKIN MATHEWS
Vigo Street, W., 1899
ERRORS.
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 1939, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 84 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
# The Wind Among the Reeds/Aedh Laments the Loss of Love

AEDH LAMENTS THE LOSS OF LOVE
Pale brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end: She looked in my heart one day And saw your image was there; She has gone weeping away.
# The Wind Among the Reeds/A Cradle Song

A CRADLE SONG
The Danann children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold: I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me.
Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea; Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West; Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; O heart the winds have shaken; the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles before Maurya's feet.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brayden, William J. Henry

​BRAYDEN, William J. Henry, O.B.E. (1920): Editor, "Freeman's Journal," 1892-1916; now represents in Dublin the Associated Press of America, and "The Chicago Daily News"; b. Armagh, 1865; Educ.: Royal School, Armagh, and University College, Dublin. Called to Irish Bar, 1894, and went North East Circuit; a Governor of Royal Irish Academy of Music; a Member of the Council, Royal Dublin Society. Recn: music. Res.: 28 Adelaide Road, Dublin. Tel., Dublin, 1340.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Bredin, Waldene Fitzwilliam Hutchinson

​BREDIN, Waldene Fitzwilliam Hutchinson, Major, late the Royal Irish Regt., and at present Resident Magistrate for the King's Co; son of the late William Bredin, of Castle Garde, Pallasgreen, Co. Limerick; m. Elizabeth Sarah, second dau. of the late Richard CooperChad wick, of Ballinard, Tipperary: one son, Waldene Edgar Bredin, Captain in the Royal Irish Regt. Recns.: Hunting, cricket, golf. Res.: Oxmantown Mall, Birr.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brennan, Rev. Charles Joseph

Cathaoir Ó Braonáin
​BRENNAN, Rev. Charles Joseph (Cathaoir O Braonain); b. Cahirciveen, Co. Kerry, 1875. Educ.: St. Brendan's Sem., Killarney, and Maynooth College. Prof, at St. Brendan's, 1898-1907; Examiner in Irish for Intermediate Board, 1908-1912; on Committee of Management, Dingle and Ballingeary Irish Colleges; on Dail Commission on Secondary Education, 1921-22; founded and edited "Loch Lein," 1903-05; President of Cumann na h-Eigse; lectures on Irish Literature and Music; has written many poems, stories and magazine articles. Compositions for violin and piano, sacred and secular songs. Address: Millstreet, Co. Cork.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brett, Sir Charles Henry

​BRETT, Sir Charles Henry, Knt. (1906), LL.D. (Queen's Univ. of Belfast) Is a Solicitor: m. 1863, Margaret, younger dau. of Robert Neill, Esq., Belfast. Res.: Gretton, Malone. Belfast. Club: National Liberal, London, S.W.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brennan, Patrick

​BRENNAN, Patrick (M.P. for County Clare from 1922).
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brasier-Creagh, Col. George Washington

​BRASIER-CREAGH, Col. George Washington, C.B. (1917), C.M.G. (1901), Lic. Med., and Lic. Surg. Dub.; employed on missions in S.E. Persia, 1893-4; Seistan, 1896-7; N. W. Frontier, India, 1897-8: served on Pekin Syndicate throughout N. China, 1898-9; in S. African War, 18991902, Lt.-Col., 1901. retd. p. 1911: R.A.M.C.; Asst.-Dir. (temp. Col.) of medical services of a division, 191.5-19: second son of Geo. Washington Brasier-Creagh, of Woodville, Buttevant, Co. Cork, by dau. and heiress of Capt. Wm. Sherlock, late 62nd Regt.: b. 1858: m. 1909, Amie Lambton, dau. of late Wm. Hy. Hooper, of Elkestone, Glos., and widow of Major Younghusband. Res.: Lombards Castle, Buttevant, Co. Cork; 1 Chenlston Gardens, Kensington, London, W.8.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brett, Major Raymond George

​BRETT, Major Raymond George, R.M. Educ: Blackrock College; Mt. St. Mary's College. Chesterfield; Royal Academy, Gosport: Lieut., Leic. Regt., 1904-09: Capt.. Antrim R.G.A. (S.R.), 1912-1919: a/Major, 1917; served in War in Malta. Salonica Force, and B.E.F. Appointed R.M. for Co. Galway, 1912, and for Co. Donegal and Londonderry City. 1919: b. 17th June, 1881; 3rd son of late J. H. Brett, J.P., Co. Surveyor, Co. Antrim; m. 1906. Olive Benn, dau. of late R. H. Todd, LL.D., Crown Solicitor, Londonderry; one dau, b. 1908: one son. b. 1910. Recns.: golf, shooting, photography. Res.: Ballymacool, Letterkenny. Club: Northern Counties, Londonderry.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Briggs, Col. George Ewbank

​BRIGGS, Col. George Ewbank, O.B.E. (Mil.).1919: b. 10th Feb., 1856; son of Col. George Briggs, late K.D. Gds., and 3rd Hampshire Regt. Educ.: Wellington College and R.M.C.. Sandhurst; served in the Royal Fusiliers, 1875 to 1903: Commanded 3rd Batt.; also commanded Depot Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Aug. 4th, 1914 to Dec. 31st, 1918 (Despatches); m. Kathleen Mary, dau. of Sir Ernest G. Swifte, K.C., of 18 Fitzwilliam Square, Dublin; two sons and one dau.; J.P. Recns.: polo, hunting, pig-sticking and big game shooting. Address: Newtown, Kilcock, Co. Meath.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Briscoe, Edward John Marriott

​BRISCOE, Edward John Marriott, J.P., King's Co.: Capt. and Hon. Major. Dublin art. R.F.A.; lord of the manor of Rathlyon; eldest son of late Edward John Briscoe, J.P., of Riverdale. Co. Westraeath and Screggan Manor, King's Co.: b. 1862; m. 1892, Diana, dau. of late Col. R. W. Hartley, of Beech Park, Co. Dublin. Res.: Riverdale, Killucan, Co. Westmeath; Screggan Manor, Tullamore, King's Co.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Brenan, Richard Henry Feehan

​BRENAN, Richard Henry Feehan (The O'Brenan), is head of the old Clan anciently styled Princes of Idough: second son of late Gerald John Brenan, of Eden Hall. Ballyragget. and Elinor, dau. and co-heiress of Richard Feehan. of Carrick, Co. Tipperary; b. 1873. Res.: Eden Hall, Ballyragget.
# The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/Against Fruition

AGAINST FRUITION
Stay here, fond youth, and ask no more; be wise:
Knowing too much long since lost paradise.
The virtuous joys thou hast, thou wouldst should still
Last in their pride; and wouldst not take it ill,
If rudely from sweet dreams (and for a toy)5 Thou wert wak't? he wakes himself, that does enjoy.
Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroys.
And while it pleaseth much the palate, cloys;
Who thinks he shall be happier for that,
As reasonably might hope he might grow fat10 By eating to a surfeit; this once past,
What relishes? even kisses lose their taste.
Urge not 'tis necessary: alas! we know
The homeliest thing which mankind does is so;
The world is of a vast extent, we see,15 And must be peopled; children there must be;
So must bread too; but since they are enough
Born to the drudgery, what need we plough?
Women enjoy'd (whate'er before th' have been)
Are like romances read, or sights once seen:20 Fruition's dull, and spoils the play much more
Than if one read or knew the plot before.
'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear;
Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were.
And as in prospects we are there pleas'd most,25 Where something keeps the eye from being lost,
And leaves us room to guess; so here restraint
Holds up delight, that with excess would faint.
They who know all the wealth they have, are poor,
He's only rich that cannot tell his store.30
# The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/Against Fruition (2)

AGAINST FRUITION
Fie upon hearts that burn with mutual fire!
I hate two minds that breathe but one desire.
Were I to curse th' unhallow'd sort of men,
I'd wish them to love, and be lov'd again.
Love's a camelion, that lives on mere air,5 And surfeits when it comes to grosser fare:
'Tis petty jealousies, and little fears,
Hopes join'd with doubts, and joys with April tears,
That crowns our love with pleasures: these are gone
When once we come to full fruition,10 Like waking in a morning, when all night
Our fancy hath been fed with true delight.
O, what a stroke 'twould be! sure I should die,
Should I but hear my mistress once say, ay.
That monster expectation feeds too high15 For any women e'er to satisfy;
And no brave spirit ever car'd for that
Which in down beds with ease he could come at.
She's but an honest whore that yields, although
She be as cold as ice, as pure as snow:20 He that enjoys her hath no more to say
But 'Keep us fasting, if you'll have us pray.'
Then, fairest mistress, hold the power you have,
By still denying what we still do crave;
In keeping us in hopes strange things to see25 That never were, nor are, nor e'er shall be.
# The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakespeare's, by the Author

A SUPPLEMENT OF AN IMPERFECT COPY OF VERSES OF MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S, BY THE AUTHOR
1
Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,
Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss:
The one lookt pale, and for revenge did long,5 While t' other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong.
2
On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white
Lookt like a daisy in a field of grass,
And shew'd like unmelt snow unto the sight:10 There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
The rest o' th' body that lay fast asleep.
3
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn;
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,15 That it broke through, and shew'd itself in scorn,
Throwing a kind of light about the place,
Which turned to smiles still, as 't came near her face.
4
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips, did sport;20 But these, as rude, her breath put by still: some
Wiselier downwards sought, but, falling short,
Curl'd back in rings, and seem'd to turn again
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.
# The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/An Answer to Some Verses Made in his Praise

AN ANSWER TO SOME VERSES MADE IN HIS PRAISE
The ancient poets and their learned rimes
We still admire in these our later times,
And celebrate their fames. Thus, though they die,
Their names can never taste mortality:
Blind Homer's muse and Virgil's stately verse,5 While any live, shall never need a herse.
Since then to these such praise was justly due
For what they did, what shall be said to you?
These had their helps: they writ of gods and kings,
Of temples, battles, and such gallant things;10 But you of nothing: how could you have writ,
Had you but chose a subject to your wit?
To praise Achilles, or the Trojan crew,
Shewed little art, for praise was but their due.
To say she's fair that's fair, this is no pains:15 He shows himself most poet, that most feigns.
To find out virtues strangely hid in me;
Ay, there's the art and learned poetry!
To make one striding of a barbed steed,
Prancing a stately round—I use indeed20 To ride Bat Jewel's jade—this is the skill,
This shows the poet wants not wit at will.
I must admire aloof, and for my part
Be well contented, since you do 't with art.
# The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/A Soldier

A SOLDIER
I am a man of war and might,
And know thus much, that I can fight,
Whether I am i' th' wrong or right,
Devoutly.
No woman under heaven I fear,5 New oaths I can exactly swear;
And forty healths my brain will bear
Most stoutly.
I cannot speak, but I can do
As much as any of our crew;10 And, if you doubt it, some of you
May prove me.
I dare be bold thus much to say:
If that my bullets do but play,
You would be hurt so night and day,15 Yet love me.
# The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/Against Absence

AGAINST ABSENCE
My whining lover, what needs all
These vows of life monastical,
Despairs, retirements, jealousies,
And subtile sealing up of eyes?
Come, come, be wise; return again;5 A finger burnt's as great a pain;
And the same physick, selfsame art
Cures that, would cure a flaming heart,
Wouldst thou, whilst yet the fire is in,
But hold it to the fire again.10 If you, dear sir, the plague have got,
What matter is 't whether or not
They let you in the same house lie,
Or carry you abroad to die?
He, whom the plague or love once takes,15 Every room a pest-house makes.
Absence were good if 't were but sense,
That only holds th' intelligence.
Pure love alone no hurt would do;
But love is love, and magick too,20 Brings a mistress a thousand miles,
And the sleight of looks beguiles,
Makes her entertain thee there,
And the same time your rival here;
And (O, the devil!) that she should25
Say finer things now than she would;
So nobly fancy doth supply
What the dull sense lets fall and die.
Beauty like man's old enemy, 's known
To tempt him most when he's alone:30 The air of some wild o'ergrown wood
Or pathless grove is the boy's food.
Return then back, and feed thine eye,
Feed all thy senses, and feast high:
Spare diet is the cause love lasts;35 For surfeits sooner kill than fasts.
# To My Brother (Thoreau)

"Brother, where dost thou dwell?"
* "To My Brother" in Poems of Nature (1895)
* "To My Brother" in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) Vol. 5