OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Laxdaela Saga/Chapter LVI

The followers of Halldor now fell a-talking how that Gudrun must think but little of the slaying of Bolli, since she had seen them off chatting and talked to them altogether as if they had done nothing that she might take to heart. Then Halldor answered, "That is not my feeling, that Gudrun thinks little of Bolli's death; I think the reason of her seeing us off with a chat was far rather, that she wanted to gain a thorough knowledge as to who the men were who had partaken in this journey. Nor is it too much said of Gudrun that in all mettle of mind and heart she is far above other women. Indeed, it is only what might be looked for that Gudrun should take sorely to heart the death of Bolli, for, truth to tell, in such men as was Bolli there is the greatest loss, though we, kinsmen, bore not about the good luck to live in peace together." After that they rode home to Herdholt. These tidings spread quickly far and wide and were thought startling, and at Bolli's death there was the greatest grief. Gudrun sent straightway men to Snorri the Priest, for Osvif and she thought that all their trust was where Snorri was. Snorri started quickly at the bidding of Gudrun and came to Tongue with sixty men, and a great ease to Gudrun's heart his coming was. He offered her to try to bring about a peaceful settlement, but Gudrun was but little minded on behalf of Thorleik to agree to taking money for the slaughter of Bolli.
"It seems to me, Snorri, that the best help you can afford me," she said, "is to exchange dwellings with me, so that I be not next-door neighbour to the Herdholtings."
At that time Snorri had great quarrels with the dwellers at Eyr, but said he would do this for the sake of his friendship with Gudrun. "Yet, Gudrun, you will have to stay on this year at Tongue."
Snorri then made ready to go away, and Gudrun gave him honourable gifts. And now Snorri rides away, and things went pretty quietly on that year. The next winter after the killing of Bolli Gudrun gave birth to a child; it was a male, and he was named Bolli. He was at an early age both big and goodly, and Gudrun loved him very much. Now as the winter passed by and the spring came the bargain took place which had been bespoken in that Snorri and Gudrun changed lands. Snorri went to Tongue and lived there for the rest of his life, and Gudrun went to Holyfell, she and Osvif, and there they set up a stately house. There Thorleik and Bolli, the sons of Gudrun, grew up. Thorleik was four years old at the time when Bolli his father was slain.
# The Laxdaela Saga/Chapter LI

Kjartan's body lay in state for a week in Herdholt. Thorstein Egilson had had a church built at Burg. He took the body of Kjartan home with him, and Kjartan was buried at Burg. The church was newly consecrated, and as yet hung in white. Now time wore on towards the Thorness Thing, and the award was given against Osvif's sons, who were all banished the country. Money was given to pay the cost of their going into exile, but they were forbidden to come back to Iceland so long as any of Olaf's sons, or Asgeir, Kjartan's son, should be alive. For Gudlaug, the son of Osvif's sister, no weregild (atonement) should be paid, because of his having set out against, and laid ambush for, Kjartan, neither should Thorolf have any compensation for the wounds he had got. Olaf would not let Bolli be prosecuted, and bade him ransom himself with a fine. This Halldor and Steinthor, and all the sons of Olaf, liked mightily ill, and said it would go hard with Bolli if he was allowed to stay in the same countryside as themselves. Olaf said that would work well enough as long as he was on his legs. There was a ship in Bjornhaven which belonged to Audun Cable- hound. He was at the Thing, and said, "As matters stand, the guilt of these men will be no less in Norway, so long as any of Kjartan's friends are alive."
Then Osvif said, "You, Cable-hound, will be no soothsayer said, in this matter, for my sons will be highly accounted of among men of high degree, whilst you, Cable-hound, will pass, this summer, into the power of trolls."
Audun Cable-hound went out a voyage that summer and the ship was wrecked amongst the Faroe Isles and every man's child on board perished, and Osvif's prophecy was thought to have come thoroughly home. The sons of Osvif went abroad that summer, and none ever came back again. In such a manner the blood-suit came to an end that Olaf was held to have shown himself all the greater a man, because where it was due, in the case of the sons of Osvif, to wit, he drove matters home to the very bone, but spared Bolli for the sake of their kinship. Olaf thanked men well for the help they had afforded him. By Olaf's counsel Bolli bought the land at Tongue. It is told that Olaf lived three winters after Kjartan was slain. After he was dead his sons shared the inheritance he left behind. Halldor took over the manor of Herdholt. Thorgerd, their mother, lived with Halldor; she was most hatefully-minded towards Bolli, and thought the reward he paid for his fostering a bitter one.
# The Laxdaela Saga/Chapter LII

In the spring Bolli and Gudrun set up house-holding at Saelingsdale Tongue, and it soon became a stately one. Bolli and Gudrun begat a son. To that boy a name was given, and he was called Thorleik; he was early a very fine lad, and a right nimble one. Halldor Olafson lived at Herdholt, as has before been written, and he was in most matters at the head of his brothers. The spring that Kjartan was slain Thorgerd Egil's daughter placed a lad, to her, with Thorkell of Goat-Peaks, and the lad herded sheep there through the summer. Like other people he was much grieved over Kjartan's death. He could never speak of Kjartan if Thorkell was near, for he always spoke ill of him, and said he had been a "white" man and of no heart; he often mimicked how Kjartan had taken his death-wound. The lad took this very ill, and went to Herdholt and told Halldor and Thorgerd and begged them to take him in. Thorgerd bade him remain in his service till the winter. The lad said he had no strength to bear being there any longer. "And you would not ask this of me if you knew what heart-burn I suffer from all this."
Then Thorgerd's heart turned at the tale of his grief, and she said that as far as she was concerned, she would make a place for him there. Halldor said, "Give no heed to this lad, he is not worth taking in earnest."
Then Thorgerd answered, "The lad is of little account," says she, but Thorkell has behaved evilly in every way in this matter, for he knew of the ambush the men of Laugar laid for Kjartan, and would not warn him, but made fun and sport of their dealings together, and has since said many unfriendly things about the matter; but it seems a matter far beyond you brothers ever to seek revenge where odds are against you, now that you cannot pay out for their doings such scoundrels as Thorkell is."
Halldor answered little to that, but bade Thorgerd do what she liked about the lad's service. A few days after Halldor rode from home, he and sundry other men together. He went to Goat- Peaks, and surrounded Thorkell's house. Thorkell was led out and slain, and he met his death with the utmost cowardice. Halldor allowed no plunder, and they went home when this was done. Thorgerd was well pleased over this deed, and thought this reminder better than none. That summer all was quiet, so to speak, and yet there was the greatest ill-will between the sons of Olaf and Bolli. The brothers bore themselves in the most unyielding manner towards Bolli, while he gave in to his kinsmen in all matters as long as he did not lower himself in any way by so doing, for he was a very proud man. Bolli had many followers and lived richly, for there was no lack of money. Steinthor, Olaf's son, lived in Danastead in Salmon-river-Dale. He had for wife Thurid, Asgeir's daughter, who had before been married to Thorkell Kuggi. Their son was Steinthor, who was called "Stone- grig".
# The Laxdaela Saga/Chapter LIII

The next winter after the death of Olaf Hoskuldson, Thorgerd, Egil's daughter, sent word to her son Steinthor that he should come and meet her. When the mother and son met she told him she wished to go up west to saurby, and see her friend Aud. She told Halldor to come too. They were five together, and Halldor followed his mother. They went on till they came to a place in front of the homestead of Saelingsdale Tongue. Then Thorgerd turned her horse towards the house and asked, "What is this place called?"
Halldor answered, "You ask this, mother, not because you don't know it. This place is called Tongue."
"Who lives here?" said she.
He answered, "You know that, mother."
Thorgerd said and snorted, "I know that well enough," she said. "Here lives Bolli, the slayer of your brother, and marvellously unlike your noble kindred you turn out in that you will not avenge such a brother as Kjartan was; never would Egil, your mother's father, have behaved in such a manner; and a piteous thing it is to have dolts for sons; indeed, I think it would have suited you better if you had been your father's daughter and had married. For here, Halldor, it comes to the old saw: 'No stock without a duffer', and this is the ill-luck of Olaf I see most clearly, how he blundered in begetting his sons. This I would bring home to you, Halldor," says she, "because you look upon yourself as being the foremost among your brothers. Now we will turn back again, for all my errand here was to put you in mind of this, lest you should have forgotten it already."
Then Halldor answered, "We shall not put it down as your fault, mother, if this should slip out of our minds."
By way of answer Halldor had few words to say about this, but his heart swelled with wrath towards Bolli. The winter now passed and summer came, and time glided on towards the Thing. Halldor and his brothers made it known that they will ride to the Thing. They rode with a great company, and set up the booth Olaf had owned. The Thing was quiet, and no tidings to tell of it. There were at the Thing from the north the Willowdale men, the sons of Gudmund Solmundson. Bardi Gudmundson was then eighteen winters old; he was a great and strong man. The sons of Olaf asked Bardi, their nephew, to go home with them, and added many pressing words to the invitation. Hall, the son of Gudmund, was not in Iceland then. Bardi took up their bidding gladly, for there was much love between those kinsmen. Bardi rode west from the Thing with the sons of Olaf. They came home to Herdholt, and Bardi tarried the rest of the summer time.
# The Jewish Fairy Book (Gerald Friedlander)

THE JEWISH FAIRY BOOK
TRANSLATED AND ADAPTED BY GERALD FRIEDLANDER
WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY GEORGE W. HOOD
NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1920, by
Frederick A. Stokes Company
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
PREFACE
All the stories in this book have been collected from various Jewish writings. No attempt has been made to give a literal translation. The tales have been retold in a modern setting. Some of these quaint old tales and stories brought comfort to the children of Israel in the days of long ago. Perhaps some pleasure may be derived by their persusal in our days.
G. F.
CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
THE JEWISH FAIRY BOOK
# The Love of Narcissus

* "Sonnet" in Preludes (1875).
* "The Love of Narcissus" in Poems (1921).
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 14

CHAP. XIV.
— Then reach me my breeches off the chair, said my father to Susannah—There is a not a moment's time to dress you, Sir, cried Susannah—the child is as black in the face as my—- ​As your, what? said my father, for like all orators, he was a dear searcher into comparisons—Bless me, Sir, said Susannah, the child's in a fit—And where's Mr. Yorick—Never where he should be, said Susannah, but his curate's in the dressing-room, with the child upon his arm, waiting for the name—and my mistress bid me run as fast as I could to know, as captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it should not be called after him.
Were one sure, said my father to himself, scratching his eye-brow, that the child was expiring, one might as well compliment my brother Toby as not—and 'twould be a pity, in such a case, to throw away so great a name as Trismegistus upon him—But he may recover.
​No, no,—said my father to Susannah, I'll get up—There is no time, cried Susannah, the child's as black as my shoe. Trismegistus, said my father—But stay—thou art a leaky vessel, Susannah, added my father; canst thou carry Trismegistus in thy head, the length of the gallery without scattering—Can I? cried Susannah, shutting the door in a huff—If she can, I'll be shot, said my father, bouncing out of bed in the dark, and groping for his breeches.
Susannah ran with all speed along the gallery.
My father made all possible speed to find his breeches.
Susannah got the start, and kept it—'Tis Tris—something, cried Susannah—​There is no christian name in the world, said the curate, beginning with Tris—but Tristram. Then 'tis Tristram-gistus, quoth Susannah.
—There is no gistus to it, noodle!—'tis my own name, replied the curate, dipping his hand as he spoke into the bason—Tristram! said he, &c. &c. &c. &c. so Tristram was I called, and Tristram shall I be to the day of my death.
My father followed Susannah with his night-gown across his arm, with nothing more than his breeches on, fastened through haste with but a single button, and that button through haste thrust only half into the button-hole.
—She has not forgot the name, cried my father, half opening the door—No, ​no, said the curate, with a tone of intelligence—And the child is better, cried Susannah—And how does your mistress? As well, said Susannah, as can be expected—Pish! said my father, the button of his breeches slipping out of the button-hole—So that whether the interjection was levelled at Susannah, or the button-hole,—whether pish was an interjection of contempt or an interjection of modesty, is a doubt, and must be a doubt till I shall have time to write the three following favourite chapters, that is, my chapter of chamber-maids—my chapter of pishes, and my chapter of button-holes.
All the light I am able to give the reader at present is this, that the moment my father cried Pish! he whisk'd himself about—and with his breeches held up by one hand, and his night-gown ​thrown across the arm of the other, he returned along the gallery to bed, something slower than he came.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 16

CHAP. XVI.
If my wife will but venture him—brother Toby, Trismegistus shall be dress'd and brought down to us, whilst you and I are getting our breakfasts together.—
—Go, tell Susanna, Obadiah, to step here.
She is run up stairs, answered Obadiah, this very instant, sobbing and crying, and wringing her hands as if her heart would break.—
​We shall have a rare month of it, said my father, turning his head from Obadiah, and looking wistfully in my uncle Toby's face for some time—we shall have a devilish month of it, brother Toby, said my father, setting his arms a-kimbo, and shaking his head; fire, water, women, wind—brother Toby!—'Tis some misfortune, quoth my uncle Toby—That it is, cried my father,—to have so many jarring elements breaking loose, and riding triumph in every corner of a gentleman's house—Little boots it to the peace of a family, brother Toby, that you and I possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmoved,—whilst such a storm is whistling over our heads.—
—And what's the matter, Susannah? They have called the child Tristram—and my mistress is just got out of an ​hysterick fit about it—No!—'tis not my fault, said Susannah—I told him it was Tristram-gistus.
—Make tea for yourself, brother Toby, said my father, taking down his hat—but how different from the sallies and agitations of voice and members which a common reader would imagine!
—For he spake in the sweetest modulation—and took down his hat with the gentlest movement of limbs, that ever affliction harmonized and attuned together.
—Go to the bowling-green for corporal Trim, said my uncle Toby, speaking to Obadiah, as soon as my father left the room.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 18

CHAP. XVIII.
Your honour, said Trim, shutting the parlour door before he began to speak, has heard, I imagine, of this ​unlucky accident—O yes, Trim! said my uncle Toby, and it gives me great concern—I am heartily concerned too, but I hope your honour, replied Trim, will do me the justice to believe, that it was not in the least owing to me—To thee—Trim!—cried my uncle Toby, looking kindly in his face—'twas Susannah's and the curate's folly betwixt them—What business could they have together, an' please your honour, in the garden?—In the gallery, thou meanest, replied my uncle Toby.
Trim found he was upon a wrong scent, and stopped short with a low bow—Two misfortunes, quoth the corporal to himself, are twice as many at least as are needful to be talked over at one time,—the mischief the cow has done in breaking into the fortifications, may be ​told his honour hereafter—Trim's casuistry and address, under the cover of his low bow, prevented all suspicion in my uncle Toby, so he went on with what he had to say to Trim as follows.
—For my own part, Trim, though I can see little or no difference betwixt my nephew's being called Tristram or Trismegistus—yet as the thing sits so near my brother's heart, Trim,—I would freely have given a hundred pounds rather than it should have happened—A hundred pounds, an' please your honour, replied Trim,—I would not give a cherry-stone to boot—Nor would I, Trim, upon my own account, quoth my uncle Toby—but my brother, whom there is no arguing with in this case—maintains that a great deal more depends, Trim, upon christian names, than what ignorant people ima​gine;—for he says there never was a great or heroic action performed since the world began by one called Tristram—nay he will have it, Trim, that a man can neither be learned, or wise, or brave—'Tis all a fancy, an' please your honour—I fought just as well, replied the corporal, when the regiment called me Trim, as when they called me James Butler—And for my own part, said my uncle Toby, though I should blush to boast of myself, Trim,—yet had my name been Alexander, I could have done no more at Namur than my duty—Bless your honour! cried Trim, advancing three steps as he spoke, does a man think of his christian name when he goes upon the attack?—Or when he stands in the trench, Trim? cried my uncle Toby, looking firm—Or when he enters a breach? said Trim, pushing in between two chairs—​—Or forces the lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a pike—Or facing a platoon, cried Trim, presenting his stick like a firelock—Or when he marches up the glacis, cried my uncle Toby, looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.—
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 2

CHAP. II.
My father lay stretched across the bed as still as if the hand of death had pushed him down, for a full hour and a half, before he began to play upon the floor with the toe of that foot which hung over the bed-side; my uncle Toby's heart was a pound lighter for it.—In a few moments, his left-hand, the knuckles of which had all the time reclined upon the handle of the chamber-pot, came to its feeling—he thrust it a little more ​within the valance—drew up his hand, when he had done, into his bosom—gave a hem!—My good uncle Toby, with infinite pleasure, answered it; and full gladly would have ingrafted a sentence of consolation upon the opening it afforded; but having no talents, as I said, that way, and fearing moreover that he might set out with something which might make a bad matter worse, he contented himself with resting his chin placidly upon the cross of his crutch.
Now whether the compression shortened my uncle Toby's face into a more pleasureable oval,—or that the philanthropy of his heart, in seeing his brother beginning to emerge out of the sea of his afflictions, had braced up his muscles,—so that the compression upon his chin only doubled the benignity which was ​there before, is not hard to decide.—My father, in turning his eyes, was struck with such a gleam of sun-shine in his face, as melted down the sullenness of his grief in a moment.
He broke silence as follows.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 11

CHAP. XI.
We shall bring all things to rights, said my father, setting his foot upon the first step from the landing—This Trismegistus, continued my father, drawing his leg back, and turning to my uncle Toby—was the greatest (Toby) of all earthly beings—he was the greatest king—the greatest lawgiver—the greatest philosopher—and the greatest priest—and engineer—said my uncle Toby.—
—In course, said my father.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 4/Chapter 12

CHAP. XII.
— And how does your mistress? cried my father, taking the same step over again from the landing, and calling to Susannah, whom he saw passing by the foot of the stairs with a huge pin-cushion in her hand—how does your mistress? As well, said Susannah, tripping by, but without looking up, as can be expected—What a fool am I, said my father! drawing his leg back again—let things be as they will, brother Toby, 'tis ever the precise answer—And how is the child, pray?—No answer. And where is doctor Slop? added my father, raising his voice aloud, and looking over the ballusters—Susannah was out of hearing.
​Of all the riddles of a married life, said my father, crossing the landing, in order to set his back against the wall, whilst he propounded it to my uncle Toby—of all the puzzling riddles, said he, in a marriage state,—of which you may trust me, brother Toby, there are more asses loads than all Job's stock of asses could have carried—there is not one that has more intricacies in it than this—that from the very moment the mistress of the house is brought to bed, every female in it, from my lady's gentlewoman down to the cinder-wench, becomes an inch taller for it; and give themselves more airs upon that single inch, than all their other inches put together.
I think rather, replied my uncle Toby, that 'tis we who sink an inch lower.—If I meet but a woman with child—I do ​it—'Tis a heavy tax upon that half of our fellow-creatures, brother Shandy, said my uncle Toby—'Tis a piteous burden upon 'em, continued he, shaking his head.—Yes, yes, 'tis a painful thing—said my father, shaking his head too—but certainly since shaking of heads came into fashion, never did two heads shake together, in concert, from two such different springs.
God bless Duce take $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ 'em all—said my uncle Toby and my father, each to himself.