OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/The three Ages

ELEGIAC POEMS.
THE THREE AGES.
THERE was a time, when in each nation’s ear The name of Czechs right gloriously sounded; By heroes borne, by dukes unknown to fear, Its fame and praise all Europe thro’ redounded.
There was a time Bohemians proudly bore The splendid, glorious, mighty Czeskish name; When ev’ry muse and science to adore To all Bohemia’s sons was pride and fame.
There was a time, when from a throne on high The ‘sweet Bohemian tongue’ was heard to sound; Entrancing music, heav’nly harmony, In princely palaces it spread around.
O then the Czech was proud a Czech to be! Proud to maintain the honour of his race! Bloom’d in the Lions land prosperity, Such as but patriot nations e’er can grace!
That time passed by; an age of ill came on, An age Bohemia’s people doom’d to quell; Its moral forces faintness seiz’d upon, Itself in intellectual bondage fell.
The Czech his mother-country ceased to love, He ceased himself to treasure as before; No more his sires’ remember’d exploits move, Their glories to deserve he strives no more.
The Czech denied his country blood and tongue; All that his fathers priz’d from home was thrown; Speech, customs, loses foreigners among, And doth the brethren of his blood disown.
Then sank Bohemia’s sun in cheerlessness, Her Genius ’gan weep with drooping head, Fled from the land the nation’s happiness, And all the fam’d Bohemian Muses fled.
O then what pangs the patriot’s bosom rend, Thus past the golden ages of his home! O then how mourn’d the people’s reäl friend, The nation sinking in so foul a tomb!
But lo! God’s Angel calls, ‘Arise again!’ ‘Up from your graves,’ his trumpet sounds ‘arise!’ Spires of the patriot’s temple, gleam again! ‘Nation, thy resurrection solemnize!’
Thus speaks the patriot Angel gloriously, And lo! what thousands from their graves upstart! Each joying that his life again is free, All utťring thanks to God with grateful heart!
Th’ ancestral spirit in its wondrous might Inspireth all the corners of the land; The words ‘He is arisen’ glad recite The priests who in their country’s temple stand.
Then rise up all! ye sleepers till to-day! The day-star is aris’n—the dawn doth glow!— The nightingales are singing—why delay?— Shame on the man who is tha laggard now!
O brethren, for your nation live again! Be lifeless members of its corpse no more! It and your mother-land confess again! Be faithful sons and brethren as of yore!
Your language, customs, rights, ye Czechs, revere! And prove indeed ye are Bohemians born! So shall th’ ancestral glories re-appear, Your own lov’d land in splendour to adorn!
* ↑ The expression of the Emperor Charles IV.
* ↑ The Lion with two tails is the emblem of Bohemia.
⁂ Cz in Czech (which is the Polish, not the Bohemian orthography, it being impossible for want of types to employ the marked letters, as the Bohemians do) should be pronounced like our ch in church. The ch at the end of the word is the only guttural sound in the Bohemian language.
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/The Nosegay

THE NOSEGAY.
FLOW’RETS, fresh flow’rets, for a maiden’s grave! But ah! few flow’rets in the winter bloom; Spring will return, the leafy branches wave, But she must moulder in her early tomb.
Few flow’rets bloom ’neath winter’s gloomy sky, But they are pure and white as winter’s snow, Meet emblems for pure souls, whose bodies die, And leave pure memories on earth below.
Through icebound earth their fragile blossoms strive, Nor can the frosty north their growth o’ercome, But still like Hopes they spring, that grow and live, Water’d by tears, beside the lov’d one’s tomb.
Take then these snowdrops, frame a nosegay fair, That may not shame the hand it should adorn; The hand and flowers in whiteness may compare, But sable is the garb of them that mourn.
Darkness divides us oft from those who sleep, And this we in our vestments would express, And, like the parted friend for whom we weep, In darkness we wrap up our tenderness.
Cold sighs the wind, and gloom o’erspreads the sky, And cold and sad around in heart we mourn, But, though the snow-clouds gather gloomily, These promises of Spring are not forlorn:
Nor is our grief forlorn; the sleeping maid, Though vanquish’d, is assur’d of victory; Still lives, though all its earthly honours fade, The precious seed of immortality.
O place the nosegay in her fingers cold, And o’er the few white flow’rets close them fast! Yet, ere the winding sheet her form enfold, O grant another look to be our last!
There lies she like a snow-drop, early ta’en, And with her must these snow-drops too decay, But ne’er, like her, will they arise again Beneath a brighter sun’s enliv’ning ray.
O peaceful slumber! soft and sweet repose! O heavenly calm upon her features spread! The living circled live with cares and woes, But Peace and Silence wait upon the dead.
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/The Winter Violet

THE WINTER VIOLET.
O TELL me what the flow’ret is, That I should in my bosom place? The gentle flower to make my bliss?— O where can I its dwelling trace?
I sought the gardens through and through, Spring, Summer, Autumn, nought was there, Was nought for me, where roses grew, Where pinks and lilies blossom’d fair.
Time passes on, I seek in vain, And nought to cheer the heart I find, And now the winter comes again With gloomy sky and howling wind.
In still despair I wander on, All, all around is nought for me, When lo! a quiet bank upon, A Violet all alone I see.
I to my bosom seize and kiss Th’ unhop’d for treasure newly found; My soul awakes again to bliss, And all again is spring around.
Thou gentle violet, sweet and true, Abide for ever near my heart! Though fleeteth form and fadeth hue, The violet’s scent doth ne’er depart.
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/The Mid-day Witch

THE MID-DAY WITCH.
ON the oak the sunbeams play’d, ’Neath the oak there stood a maid, Strawberries she gather’d there For a feast till mid-day fair.
To her comes a lady white, With a golden girdle dight, But her loose dishevell’d hair All conceals her count’nance fair.
She doth to the maiden say, Wait, O wait awhile, I pray! If the hair thou plait’st for me, Thou shalt sometime blooming be.
Sit the maid and lady white, With the golden girdle dight, And the maiden plaits the hair, Which conceals her count’nance fair.
After, when the maid arose, Gifts the Vila fair bestows, Little leaves of hawthorn free, Large leaves from the old oak-tree.
Fleets the Vila, homeward now Doth the maid returning go; Tossing scornfully her head, O’er the path the leaves she spread.
Then at home the tale she told, As her apron she doth fold, Ah! but how astonish’d she, Gold and silver sheen to see!
Then she knows the Vila white Would the service small requite, Silver leaves of hawthorn free Golden from the old oak-tree.
Quiet can she not attain, Till the leaves she seeks again, But the leaves alas! are gone, And the maiden weeps alone.
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/The Rose

THE ROSE.
THE rose it sweetly bloometh, But whose then shall it be? Ah! long long time I watch’d it, Alas! unhappy me!
As long as undevelop’d, And in the bud it grows, There’s no one looks upon it, Nor marks the coming rose.
O carefully I watch’d it, Like pearls that precious be; O then it was a promise Of future bliss to me!
But soon as from the green leaves An issue forth it found, It was the admiration Of all the lads around!
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/The Orphan

THE ORPHAN.
THEY who cease as time goes by, ‘Father, mother dear,’ to cry, They are needy, they are poor, Gold and silver though they store; How much more then poorer he Who to strangers’ doors must flee!
Strangers all, and nowhere home! From the cheek all joy is gone! E’en the chafers homes have found, On the green leaves sleeping sound; Only I, poor orphan, weep, On the pavement doom’d to sleep.
Still I do not quite despair, Heavenward gazing—God is there! Ev’ry flower he tendeth mild, Looketh too on me his child, He, the lilies clothing fair, Doth for the poor orphan care.
# Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern/Three Didactic Poems

THREE DIDACTIC POËMS.
I.
COME the stars and go again, Rises too and sets the sun; Thus throughout the universe Ever changeless changes run.
World round world is still revolving, Star round star doth ceaseless go; Thus it was from the beginning, Thus it will be evermoe.
Round the earth the moon revolveth, Round the sun both take their road; Let thy heart move round thy country, With thy country round thy God!
II.
O MY son, when first thou camest Into this world’s paradise, All around thee then was smiling, Thou alone hadst weeping eyes.
Be it ever thy endeavour, That, when thy last hour is come, When around thee all is weeping, Thou with smiles may’st meet thy doom!
III.
SON belovéd! if in bondage Man the nightingale doth bring, He to all things can constrain him, All, but out of love to sing.
Even so, when man his fellow With despotic rule doth sway, Easily he can compel him Humble reverence to pay;
Timidly to quail before him, Kiss the scourge that gives him pain;— He to all things can constrain him, But his love he cannot gain!
# Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Antiochus of Palestine

From volume 1 of the work.
A monk of the seventh century, said to have been born near Ancyra (Asia Minor), lived first as a solitary, then became a monk and Abbot of the famous laura or monastery of St. Saba near Jerusalem. He witnessed the Persian invasion of Palestine in 614, and the massacre of forty-four of his companions by the Bedouins. Five years after the conquest of the Holy Land by Chosroes, Ancyra was taken (619) and destroyed by the Persians, which compelled the monks of the neighbouring monastery of Attaline to leave their home, and to move from place to place. As they were, naturally, unable to carry many books with them, the Abbot Eustathius asked his friend Antiochus to compile an abridgment of Holy Scripture for their use, and also a short account of the martyrdom of the forty-four monks of St. Sabbas. In compliance with this request he wrote a work known as "Pandects of Holy Scripture" (in 130 chapters, mistaken by the Latin translator for as many homilies). It is a collection of moral sentences, drawn from Scripture and from early ecclesiastical writers. He also wrote an "Exomologesis" or prayer, in which he relates the miseries that had befallen Jerusalem since the Persian invasion, and begs the divine mercy to heal the Holy City's many ills (P.L., LXXXIX, 1422-1856). These works seem to have been written in the period between the conquest of Palestine by Chosroes and its reconquest by the Emperor Heraclius (628). The introductory chapter of the "Pandects" tells of the martyrdom referred to; its last chapter contains a list of heretics from Simon Magus to the Monophysite followers of Severus of Antioch. The book is of special value for its extracts of works no longer existing; the writer had an interest, then uncommon, in early Christian literature.
Batiffol in dict. de la Bible s.v.; Vailhe in Dict. de theol. oath. s.v.; Peters in Kirchenlex., s.v.; Bardenhewer, Patrologie, (2d ed. Freiburg, 1901), 505; Ehrhard, in Krumbacher, Gesch. d. byzant. Litt., (2d ed. Munich, 1867), I, 114.
FRANCIS W. GREY
# Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Antipatris

From volume 1 of the work.
A titular see of Palestine, whose episcopal list is known from 449 to 451 (Gams,( 452). It was built by Herod the Great in honour of his father Antipatris, and is mentioned in Acts 23:31. "Its ancient name and site," says Smith, "are still preserved by a Muslim village of considerable size . . . about three hours north of Jaffa."
SMITH, Dict. of Greek and Roman Geogr., I, 147; JACQUIER, in BIF., Dict de la Bible (1891), s.v.
# Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Antiphellos

From volume 1 of the work.
Now ANTEPHELO, or ANDIFILO, a titular see of Lycia, on the south coast of Asia Minor, at the head of a small bay; once suffragan of Myra. Little is known of its history.
SMITH, Dict. of Greek and Roman Geogr., I, 147; MAS LATRIE, Trésor de Chronol. (Paris, 1895), 1987.
# Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Antipater of Bostra

From volume 1 of the work.
(In Arabia) in the fifth century, one of the foremost Greek prelates of the Roman Orient; flourished about 460. He was a pronounced opponent of Origen. Little is known of his life, save that he was held in high esteem by his contemporaries, civil and ecclesiastical. He is rated among the authoritative ecclesiastical writers by the Fathers of the Seventh General Council (787). There have reached us, in the acts of this council, only a few fragments of his lengthy refutation of the "Apology for Origen" put together (c. 309) by Pamphilus and Eusebius of Caesarea. The work of Antipater was looked on as a masterly composition, and, as late as 540 was ordered to be read in the churches of the East as an antidote to the spread of the Origenistic heresies (Cotelier, Monument. Eccl. Graec., III, 362). He also wrote a treatise against the Apollinarists, known only in brief fragments, and several homilies, two of which have reached us in their entirety. His memory is kept on 13 June.
The literary relics of Antipater are found in P.G., LXXXV, 1763-96; see also: Vailhé, in Dict. de théol. cath,., I, 1440; Acta SS., 13 June; Venables in Dict. Christ. Biog., I, 122; Bardenhewer, Patrologie (2d ed. 1901), 469.
F. M. RUDGE
# Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Antinoe

From volume 1 of the work.
(or ANTINOPOLIS)
A titular see of the Thebaid, now Esneh or Esench, a city in Egypt, built by the Emperor Hadrian A. D. 132, in memory of his favourite, Antinous. Situated in the very centre of Egypt, the city attracted more than ordinary attention, not only by its splendour, but by its originality, being constructed, as it was, on the plan of Roman and Greek cities, without any trace of Egyptian architecture. The topography of its ruins is yearly growing less distinct, since an European industry set up in the neighbourhood draws on its antique materials as it might on some deserted marble quarry. After the fashion of Greek and Asiatic cities, the city was intersected by streets along the sides of which ran porticoes and colonnades, and several of the the streets were arched over.
Antinoe played but a small part in the history of Christianity. It became the seat of a bishopric subject to Thebes, and a good many monasteries were founded in the neighbourhood. Thanks to the Egyptian climate, the cemeteries opened in recent years have supplied the science of Christian antiquity with many noteworthy objects. Roman and Byzantine burial-places have been found in a wonderful state of preservation. The bodies, before burial, underwent a preparation very different from that in use with the ancient Egyptians, and were carefully dressed; clothes, stuffing, and a mask being used instead of mummification, which was no longer practised. The bodies, however, had the appearance of mummies. To this manner of preparing their dead we owe the preservation of various personal effects as well as of stuffs. The tomb of a young woman named Euphemiâan (?) contained an embroidery case in the folds of her dress, and shoes of red leather enriched with gold tracery. The excavations carried on by M. A. Gayet have brought to light objects which are now in the Musée Guimet at Paris, such as prayer-chaplets, baskets, phials, boxes of wood and ivory, etc. Papyri have also been found at Antinoe, one of the most interesting being the will of Aurelius Colluthus.
Several ruins of some importance are to be seen in the neighbourhood of Antinoe. One of the most noteworthy is that of Deïr Abou-Hennys, where there is an underground church, ornamented with paintings of real interest, less on account of the choice of subjects than for the skill and taste which they show in a Coptic artist of the seventh or eighth century. They represent scenes from the Gospel, with a few drawn from the apocryphal books, and are interspersed with a great number of inscriptions, most of which are mutilated or undecipherable.
LECLERCQ in Dict. d'archéol. chrét. et de lit., I, col. 2326-2359; DE BOCK Couvent de Saint Jean près d'Antinoë in Matériaux pour servir à l'archéologie de l'Egypte chrétienne (St. Petersburg, 1901); GAYET, in Annales du Musée Guimet (1902), XXX, Part 2; J. CLEDAT, in Bulletin de l'institut français d'archéol. orien. (1902), II.
H. LECLERCQ.
# Bonny Scot (2)/Gilderoy

To its own proper tune.
WE were both born in ae town-end and both brought up together, I wot we were not ſeven years old, when we lov'd one another; Our fathers and our mothers both, of us they had great joy, Expecting ſtill the marriage-day, 'twixt me and Gilderoy.
My love he was as brave a man, as ever Scotland bred, Deſcended of a Highland Clan, but a Catrine to his trade. For valour he had more renown, than Hector had in Troy, And ev'ry wealthy rogue and clown, was fear'd for Gilderoy.
The Queen of Scots poſſeſſed not, that my love let me want, Both cows and ewes to me he brought in time when they were ſcant: All that did not honeſtly poſſeſs, he only would annoy, Who duly did not pay their ceſs, to my love Gilderoy.
​When Gilderoy went to the glen, he always chus'd the fat, And in thoſe days there was not ten, with him durſt bell the cat: Though he had been as Wallace ſtout, and tall as Dalmahoy, He never miſs'd to get a clout, from my love Gilderoy.
My love ſometimes when he lay down, did kiſs me, and why not, And bought to me a tartan gown, and ſkyring petticoat: A woman and a woman's ſon, had never greater joy, Than we two when we were alone, I, and my Gilderoy.
At length they catch'd him on a hill, and both his hands they ty'd, Alledging he had done ſome ill, but ſons of whores they ly'd: Three gallons large of Uſquebah, we drank at his laſt foy. Before he went to Edinburgh, I mean my Gilderoy.
To Edinburgh we follow'd faſt, but lang or I came there, They had him mounted on a maſt, and hinging in the air. His relicks they were more eſteem'd, than Scanderbeg in Croy, ​And ev'ry one was happy deem'd, that gaz'd on Gilderoy.
Now I muſt fell my good beef-ſtands, I wot they coſt me dear, For as lang as my true love liv'd, he fill'd them once a year: For beef and mutton, veniſon, of what I could deſtroy, But now he hangs above the reſt, my handſome Gilderoy.
I never will love man again, my heart is now ſo ſore, My love ſhall ſtill more ſtrong remain, till I can love no more: I'll ſigh and ſob till my laſt breath, when I think on my joy, Lamenting ſtill the tragic end, of my love Gilderoy.
Alas! that e'er ſuch laws were made, to hang a man for gear, Either for ſtealing cow or ewe, or catching horſe or mare, Had not the laws then been ſo ſtrick, I near had loſt my joy, But now he lodges with Old Nick, that hang'd my Gilderoy.
FINIS.
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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# Bonny Scot (2)

To which are added,
Entered according to Order.
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
# Bonny Scot (2)/Slighted Nancy

Tune.—if the Kirk wad let me be.
’TIS I ha'e ſeven braw new gowns, and ither ſeven better to mak, And yet for a' my braw new gowns, my wooer has turned his back; Beſides I ha'e ſeven milk-ky, and Sandy he has but three; And yet for a' my good ky, the laddie winna ha'e me.
My dadie's a delver of dykes, my mither can card and ſpin, And I'm a fine fodgel laſs, and the ſiller comes linkin in, The ſiller comes linkin in, and it is fu' fair to ſee, And fifty times wow! O wow, what ails the lads at me?
When ever our Baty does bark, then faſt to the door I rin, ​To ſee gin ony young ſpark, will light and venture but in, But never a ane comes in, though mony a ane gaes by, Syne far ben the houſe I rin: and a weary wight am I.
When I was at my firſt pray’rs, I pray'd but anes i' the year, I wiſh'd for a handſome young lad, and a lad wi' muckle gear. When I was at my neiſt pray'rs, I pray'd but now and than, I faſh'd na my head about gear, if I gat a handſome young man.
Now when I was at my laſt pray’rs, I pray'd on baith night and day, And, O! if a beggar wad come, with that ſame beggar I'd gae. And O! and what'll come o' me! and O! and what'll I do? That ſic a braw laſſie as I ſhou'd die for a woer I trow.
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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# Bonny Scot (2)/The Bonny Scot

Tune—BOAT-MAN
YE gales, that gently wave the ſea, And pleaſe the canny boat-man, Bear me frae hence, or bring to me, My brave and bonny Scot-man, In haly bands, We join'd our hands, Yet may not this diſcover, While parents rate A large eſtate, Before a faithfu' lover.
But I leer chuſe in Highland glens, To herd the kid and goat—man, E'er I cou'd for ſic little ends, Refuſe my bonny Scot—man, Wae worth the man Wha firſt began The baſe ungen'rous faſhion, Frae greedy views Love's art to uſe, While ſtranger's to its paſſion.
Frae foreign fields, my lovely youth, Haſte to thy, longing Laſſie, Wha wants to preſs thy bawmy mouth, And in her boſom hawſe thee. ​Love gies the word Then haſte on board, Fair winds and tenty boat—man, Waft o'er, waft o'er Frae yonder ſhore, My blithe, my bonny Scot—man.
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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# Bonny Scot (2)/The Faithful Shepherd

Tune—AULD LANG SYNE.
WHen flow’ry meadows deck the year, and ſporting lambkins play, When ſpangl'd fields renew'd appear, and muſic wak'd the day;
​Then did my Chloe leave her bow'r, to hear my am'rous lay, Warm'd by my love, ſhe vow'd no pow'r ſhou'd lead her heart aſtray.
The warbling quires from ev'ry bough, ſurround our couch in throngs, And all their tuneful art beſtow, to give us change of ſongs.
Scenes of delight my ſoul poſſeſs'd, I bleſs'd, then hugg'd my maid; I robb'd the kiſſes of her breaſt, ſweet as a noon-day's ſhade.
Joy tranſporting never fails, to fly away as air, Another ſwain with her prevails, to be as falſe as fair.
What can my fatal paſſion care? I'll never woo again, All her diſdain I muſt endure, adoring her in vain.
What pity 'tis to hear the boy, thus ſighing with his pain; But time and ſcorn may give him joy, to hear her ſigh again.
Ah! fickle Chloe, be advis'd, do not thyſelf beguile; A faithful lover ſhould be priz'd, thou cure him with a ſmile.
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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