OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry/The Sea-God's Address to Bran

​THE SEA-GOD'S ADDRESS TO BRAN
Then on the morrow Bran went upon the sea. When he had been at sea two days and two nights, he saw a man in a chariot coming towards him over the sea. It was Manannan, the son of Ler, who sang these quatrains to him.
To Bran in his coracle it seems A marvellous beauty across the clear sea: To me in my chariot from afar It is a flowery plain on which he rides.
What is a clear sea For the prowed skiff in which Bran is, That to me in my chariot of two wheels Is a delightful plain with a wealth of flowers.
Bran sees A mass of waves beating across the clear sea: I see myself in the Plain of Sports Red-headed flowers that have no fault.
Sea-horses glisten in summer As far as Bran can stretch his glance: Rivers pour forth a stream of honey In the land of Manannan, son of Ler.
The sheen of the main on which thou art, The dazzling white of the sea on which thou rowest about— Yellow and azure are spread out, It is a light and airy land.
Speckled salmon leap from the womb Out of the white sea on which thou lookest: They are calves, they are lambs of fair hue, With truce, without mutual slaughter.
Though thou seest but one chariot-rider In the Pleasant Plain of many flowers, There are many steeds on its surface, Though them thou seest not.
Large is the plain, numerous is the host, Colours shine with pure glory, A white stream of silver, stairs of gold Afford a welcome with all abundance.
An enchanting game, most delicious, They play over the luscious wine, Men and gentle women under a bush, Without sin, without transgression.
Along the top of a wood Thy coracle has swum across ridges, There is a wood laden with beautiful fruit Under the prow of thy little skiff.
A wood with blossom and with fruit On which is the vine's veritable fragrance, A wood without decay, without defect, On which is a foliage of a golden hue.
We are from the beginning of creation Without old age, without consummation of clay, Hence we expect not there might be frailty— Transgression has not come to us.
Steadily then let Bran row! It is not far to the Land of Women: Evna with manifold bounteousness He will reach before the sun is set.
# Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry/To Crinog

​TO CRINOG
Crinog, melodious is your song. Though young no more you are still bashful. We two grew up together in Niall's northern land, When we used to sleep together in tranquil slumber.
That was my age when you slept with me, O peerless lady of pleasant wisdom: A pure-hearted youth, lovely without a flaw, A gentle boy of seven sweet years.
We lived in the great world of Banva Without sullying soul or body, My flashing eye full of love for you, Like a poor innocent untempted by evil.
Your just counsel is ever ready, Wherever we are we seek it: To love your penetrating wisdom is better Than glib discourse with a king.
Since then you have slept with four men after me, Without folly or falling away: I know, I hear it on all sides, You are pure, without sin from man.
At last, after weary wanderings, You have come to me again, Darkness of age has settled on your face: Sinless your life draws near its end.
You are still dear to me, faultless one, You shall have welcome from me without stint; You will not let us be drowned in torment: We will earnestly practise devotion with you.
The lasting world is full of your fame, Far and wide you have wandered on every track: If every day we followed your ways, We should come safe into the presence of dread God.
You leave an example and a bequest To every one in this world, You have taught us by your life: Earnest prayer to God is no fallacy.
Then may God grant us peace and happiness! May the countenance of the King Shine brightly upon us When we leave behind us our withered bodies.
# Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry/The Viking Terror

​THE VIKING TERROR
Bitter is the wind to-night, It tosses the ocean's white hair: To-night I fear not the fierce warriors of Norway Coursing on the Irish Sea.
# Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry/The Song of Carroll's Sword

​THE SONG OF CARROLL'S SWORD
    (a.d. 909)
Hail, sword of Carroll! Oft hast thou been in the great woof of war, Oft giving battle, beheading high princes.
Oft hast thou gone a-raiding in the hands of kings of great judgments, Oft hast thou divided the spoil with a good king worthy of thee.
Oft where men of Leinster were hast thou been in a white hand, Oft hast thou been among kings, oft among great bands.
Many were the kings that wielded thee in fight, Many a shield hast thou cleft in battle, many a head and chest, many a fair skin.
Forty years without sorrow Enna of the noble hosts had thee, Never wast thou in a strait, but in the hands of a very fierce king.
Enna gave thee—'twas no niggardly gift—to his own son, to Dunling, For thirty years in his possession, at last thou broughtest ruin to him.
Many a king upon a noble steed possessed thee unto Dermot the kingly, the fierce: Sixteen years was the time Dermot had thee.
At the feast of Allen Dermot the hardy-born bestowed thee, Dermot, the noble king, gave thee to the man of Mairg, to Murigan.
Forty years stoutly thou wast in the hand of Allen's high-king, With Murigan of mighty deeds thou never wast a year without battle.
In Wexford Murigan, the King of Vikings, gave thee to Carroll: While he was upon the yellow earth Carroll gave thee to none.
Thy bright point was a crimson point in the battle of Odba of the Foreigners, When thou leftest Aed Finnliath on his back in the battle of Odba of the noble routs.
Crimson was thy edge, it was seen; at Belach Moon thou wast proved, In the valorous battle of Alvy's Plain throughout which the fighting raged.
Before thee the goodly host broke on a Thursday at Dun Ochtair, When Aed the fierce and brilliant fell upon the hillside above Leafin.
Before thee the host broke on the day when Kelly was slain, Flannagan's son, with numbers of troops, in high lofty great Tara.
Before thee they ebbed southwards in the battle of the Boyne of the rough feats, When Cnogva fell, the lance of valour, at seeing thee, for dread of thee.
Thou wast furious, thou wast not weak, heroic was thy swift force, When Ailill Frosach of Fál fell in the front of the onset.
Thou never hadst a day of defeat with Carroll of the beautiful garths. He swore no lying oath, he went not against his word.
Thou never hadst a day of sorrow, many a night thou hadst abroad; Thou hadst awaiting thee many a king with many a battle.
O sword of the kings of mighty fires, do not fear to be astray! Thou shalt find thy man of craft, a lord worthy of thee.
Who shall henceforth possess thee, or to whom wilt thou deal ruin? From the day that Carroll departed, with whom wilt thou be bedded?
Thou shalt not be neglected until thou come to the house of glorious Naas: Where Finn of the feasts is they will hail thee with 'welcome.'
# Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry/The Song of Crede, Daughter of Guare

​THE SONG OF CREDE, DAUGHTER OF GUARE
In the battle of Aidne, Crede, the daughter of King Guare of Aidne, beheld Dinertach of the Hy Fidgenti, who had come to the help of Guare, with seventeen wounds upon his breast. Then she fell in love with him. He died, and was buried in the cemetery of Colman's Church.
These are arrows that murder sleep At every hour in the bitter-cold night: Pangs of love throughout the day For the company of the man from Roiny.
Great love of a man from another land Has come to me beyond all else: It has taken my bloom, no colour is left, It does not let me rest.
Sweeter than songs was his speech, Save holy adoration of Heaven's King; He was a glorious flame, no boastful word fell from his lips, A slender mate for a maid's side.
When I was a child I was bashful, I was not given to going to trysts: Since I have come to a wayward age, My wantonness has beguiled me.
I have every good with Guare, The King of cold Aidne: But my mind has fallen away from my people To the meadow at Irluachair.
There is chanting in the meadow of glorious Aidne Around the sides of Colman's Church: Glorious flame, now sunk into the grave— Dinertach was his name.
It wrings my pitiable heart, O chaste Christ, What has fallen to my lot: These are arrows that murder sleep At every hour in the bitter-cold night.
# Selections from Muḥammadan Traditions

SELECTIONS
FROM
MUḤAMMADAN TRADITIONS
Being a Carefully Chosen and Thoroughly Representative Collection of the Most Authentic Traditions from the Celebrated
MISHKÁTUʾL-MAṢÁBÍH
Translated from the Arabic
by the
REV. WILLIAM GOLDSACK
THE CHRISTIAN LITERATURE SOCIETY FOR INDIA MADRAS ALLAHABAD RANGOON MYSORE COLOMBO 1923
CONTENTS
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 1957, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 66 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
# Some Days retired from the rest

Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die
# Some Definitions

Originally published in Mother Earth, Vol. V, no. 2, April 1910.
Some Definitions
ANARCHISM--The philosophy of a new social order based on liberty unrestricted by man-made law; the theory that all forms of government rest on violence and are therefore wrong and harmful, as well as unnecessary.
ANARCHY--Absence of government; disbelief in, and disregard of, invasion and authority based on coercion and force; a condition of society regulated by voluntary agreement instead of government.
ANARCHIST--A believer in Anarchism; one opposed to all forms of coercive government and invasive authority; an advocate of Anarchy, or absence of government, as the ideal of political liberty and social harmony.
FREE COMMUNISM--Voluntary economic co-operation of all towards the needs of each. A social arrangement based on the principle: To each according to his needs; from each according to his ability.
DIRECT ACTION--Conscious individual or collective effort to protest against, or remedy, social conditions through the systematic assertion of the economic power of the workers.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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
# Seven sentimental songs/Banks of Allan Water

BANKS OF ALLAN WATER.
On the banks of Allan water, When the sweet spring time did fall, Was the miller's lovely daughter, Fairest of them all. For his bride a soldier sought her, And a winning tongue had he; On the banks of Allan water, None so gay as she.
On the banks of Allan water, When brown autumn spreads his store, There I saw the miller's daughter; But she smiled no more. For the summer grief had brought her, And her soldier false was he; On the banks of Allan water, None so sad as she.
On the banks of Allan water, When the winter snow fell fast, Still was seen the miller's daughter, Chilling blew the blast. But the miller's lovely daughter, Both from cold and care was free— On the banks of Allan water, There a corse lay she.
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
# Seven sentimental songs/Jock O' Hazeldean

S O N G S
JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.
“Why weep ye by the tide, lady? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye shall be his bride, And ye shall be his bride, lady, Sae comely to be seen:" But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock o' Hazeldean.
" Now let this wilful grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; Young Frank is chief of Errington, And Lord of Langley dale. His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen:" But ay she loot the tears down fa' For Jock o' Hazeldean.
“ A chain of gold ye shall not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair, Nor mettl'd hound, nor manag'd hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair.
​And you the foremost o' them a' Shall ride, our foremost queen:” But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock o' Hazeldean.
The kirk was deck'd at morning tide, The tapers glimmer'd fair, The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, And dame and knight are there. They sought her baith by bower and ha', The lady was not seen; She's o'er the border and awa’, Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean.
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
# Seven sentimental songs/Logan Water

LOGAN WATER.
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide, That day I was my Willie's bride: And years sinsyne hae o'er us run, Like Logan to the summer sun. But now thy flow'ry banks appear Like drumlie winter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maun face his faes, Far far frae me and Logan braes.
Again the merry month of May, Has made our hills and valleys gay, The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, The bees hum round the breathing flowers Blythe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evening tears are tears of joy; My soul, delightless, a' surveys, While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, Amang her nestlings sits the thrush, Her faithfu' mate will share her toil, Or wi' his song her cares beguile; But I wi' my sweet nurslings here, Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, Pass widow'd nights and joyless days, While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
O, wae upon you men o' state, That brethren rouse to deadly hate! As ye make mony a fond heart mourn, Sae may it on your heads return.
​How can your flinty hearts enjoy, The widow's tear, the orphan's cry? But soon may peace bring happy days, And Willie hame to Logan braes!
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
# Seven sentimental songs

SEVEN
SENTIMENTAL SONGS.
JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.
THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE.
LOGAN WATER.
BANKS OF ALLAN WATER.
SOMEBODY.
THEY'RE A' TEASING ME.
TO ALL YOU LADIES.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 69.
* Jock O' Hazeldean
* This is No My Ain Lassie
* Somebody
* Logan Water
* Banks of Allan Water
* They're A' Teasing Me
* To All You Ladies
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
# Songs of Love

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Songs of Love."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Oh never may I feel again, a poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
* Farewell to my first dream of love, a poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon (Air,— Here’s health to ane I loo dear.)
* My heart is not light as when first, love, a poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon (Air,—Tam Glen.)
* ‘Twas sweet to look upon thine eyes, a poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
# Songs of Long Ago

SONGS of LONG AGO
OLD YET EVER NEW
PUBLISHED BY GEO. P. BENT, MANUFACTURER OF CROWN PIANOS & ORGANS CHICAGO
COMPLIMENTS OF
——1. Red, White, and Blue. ——2. Hail Columbia. ——3. America. ——4. Star-Spangled Banner. ——5. When Johnny Comes Marching Home. ——6. Yankee Doodle. ——7. Home, Sweet Home. ——8. Sweet By and By. ——9. Old Dog Tray. ——10. My Old Kentucky Home. ——11. Nearer, my God, to Thee. ——12. Old Folks at Home. ——13. Listen to the Mocking Bird. ——14. Do They Miss me at Home? ——15. Long, Long Ago. ——16. Willie, we Have Missed You.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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
# Songs of Long Ago/Red, White, and Blue

Red, White, and Blue.
David T. Shaw.
# Songs of Long Ago/Yankee Doodle

Yankee Doodle.
| 5 And every time they fired it off, It took a horn of powder; It made a noise like father’s gun, Only a nation louder. | 7 And there they’d fife away like fun, And play on corn-stalk fiddles, And some red ribbons red as blood, All bound about their middles. |
| 6 And there I see a little keg, It’s heads were made of leather, They knock’d upon ’t with little sticks, To call the folks together. | 8 But I can’t tell you half I see, They kept up such a smother, So I took my hat off, made a bow, And scampered home to mother. |
# Songs of Long Ago/Hail Columbia

Hail Columbia.
F. Hopkinson.
# Songs of Long Ago/When Johnny Comes Marching Home

When Johnny Comes Marching Home.
Words and Music by Louis Lambert.
Used by permission of the S. Brainard’s Sons Co., owners of the copyright.
# Songs of Long Ago/America

America.
# Songs of Long Ago/Star-Spangled Banner

Star-Spangled Banner.
Francis Scott Key.
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 146

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146
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fool'd by these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? 4 Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? 8 Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more: 12 So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
146. 1, 2 Cf. n. 4 outward walls: body 8 charge: expense 10 aggravate: increase 11 terms: long periods of time
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 148

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148
O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight; Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? 4 If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no. 8 How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true, That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? No marvel then, though I mistake my view; The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. 12 O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.
4 censures: judges 10 watching: wakefulness
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 15

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15
When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; 4 When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and check'd e'en by the self-same sky, Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory; 8 Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, To change your day of youth to sullied night; 12 And, all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
4 influence; cf. n. 6 Cheered and check'd: encouraged and repressed 7 Vaunt: exult at height: when fully developed 8 And wear . . . memory: and outlast the memory of their prime 9 conceit: thought inconstant stay: transitory state of being 11 debateth: takes counsel with 14 engraft you new: renew your beauty (by my verse)
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 145

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145
Those lips that Love's own hand did make, Breath'd forth the sound that said 'I hate,' To me that languish'd for her sake: But when she saw my woeful state, 4 Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was us'd in giving gentle doom; And taught it thus anew to greet; 8 'I hate,' she alter'd with an end, That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away. 12 'I hate' from hate away she threw, And sav'd my life, saying—'Not you.'
1–14 Cf. n.
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 144

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144
Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman, colour'd ill. 4 To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride. 8 And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Suspect I may, but not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell: 12 Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
1–14 Cf. n. 2 suggest: prompt 11 from me: away from me to each: to each other 14 fire . . . out: drive out with fire
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 147

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147
My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. 4 My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. 8 Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, At random from the truth vainly express'd; 12 For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
6 kept: followed 7 approve: prove that 8 which physic did except: (Desire) which objected to the physic (of Reason)
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 150

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150
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might, With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? 4 Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill, That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? 8 Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, The more I hear and see just cause of hate? O, though I love what others do abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: 12 If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me, More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.
7 warrantise: assurance
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 151

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151
Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: 4 For, thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no further reason, 8 But rising at thy name doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. 12 No want of conscience hold it that I call Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
# Shakespeare's Sonnets (1923) Yale/Text/Sonnet 143

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143
Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feather'd creatures broke away, Sets down her babe, and makes all quick dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; 4 Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies before her face, Not prizing her poor infant's discontent: 8 So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind; 12 So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will, If thou turn back and my loud crying still.
13 Will; cf. note on Sonnet 135