OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/O'er the muir to Maggy

O’er the muir to Maggy.
[This is the name of an old Scottish air. The original words to the tune, however, are scarcely fit for quoting. The following is Ramsay's version of the song.]
And I'll owre the muir to Maggy, Her wit and sweetness call me; There to my fair I'll show my mind, Whatever may befall me: If she love mirth, I'll learn to sing Or likes the Nine to follow, I'll lay my lugs in Pindus' spring, And invocate Apollo.
If she admire a martial mind, I'll sheathe my limbs in armour; If to the softer dance inclined, With gayest airs I'll charm her; If she love grandeur, day and night I'll plot my nation's glory, Find favour in my prince's sight, And shine in future story.
Beauty can wonders work with ease, Where wit is corresponding, And bravest men know best to please, With complaisance abounding. My bonnie Maggy's love can turn Me to what shape she pleases, If in her breast that flame shall burn, Which in my bosom bleezes.
# The Book of Scottish Song/O'er the mist-shrouded

O'er the mist-shrouded.
[J. Burtt.—Tune, "Banks of the Devon."]
O'er the mist-shrouded clifts of the grey mountain straying, Where the wild winds of winter incessantly rave: What woes wring my heart, while intently surveying The storm's gloomy path on the breast of the wave. ​Ye foam-crested billows allow me to wail, Ere ye toss me afar from my loved native shore; Where the flower which bloom'd sweetest in Coila's green vale, The pride of my bosom, my Mary's no more!
No more by the banks of the streamlet we'll wander, And smile at the moon's rimpled face in the wave; No more shall my arms cling with fondness around her, For the dew-drops of morning fall cold on her grave. No more shall the soft thrill of love warm my breast, I haste with the storm to a far distant shore, Where unknown, unlamented, my ashes shall rest, And joy shall revisit my bosom no more.
# The Book of Scottish Song/O, Kenmure's on and awa'

O, Kenmure's on and awa'.
[Part of this song is old, and part by Burns, as it went through his hands for Johnson's Museum. In Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, some other verses are given as belonging to the old song, but they are interpolations by Allan Cunningham. William Gordon, viscount Kenmure, when the rebellion broke out in the year 1715, left Kenmure, in Galloway, with about 200 horsemen, and joined the Chevalier's forces at Preston in Lancashire. Here he was attacked by General Carpenter and taken prisoner, along with many of his unfortunate followers, to London. The prisoners with their arms pinioned were led on horseback through the principal streets of the metropolis, and were obliged to submit to the hootings and indignities of a London mob. Kenmure was beheaded on Tower Hill on the 24th February, 1716. His fate was much lamented.]
O, Kenmure's on and awa', Willie, O, Kenmure's on and awa'; And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord That ever Galloway saw.
Success to Kenmure's band, Willie, Success to Kenmure's band! There's no a heart that fears a Whig, That rides by Kenmure's hand.
Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie, Here's Kenmure's health in wine! There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude, Nor yet o' Gordon's line.
O, Kenmure's lads are men, AVillie, O, Kenmure's lads are men! Their hearts and swords are metal true; And that their faes shall ken.
They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie, They'll live or die wi' fame; But sune wi' sound and victorie May Kenmure's lord come hame!
Here's him that's far awa", Willie, Here's him that's far awa'; And here's the flower that I lo'e best, The rose that's like the snaw.
# The Cat and the King

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Cat and the King."
* sister projects: 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.
* The Cat and the King, novelette by Robert Welles Ritchie
* The Cat and the King, short story by Stanley J. Weyman
# The Cat on the Dovrefell

* "The Cat on the Dovrefell", Popular Tales from the Norse. 1912.
* "The Cat on the Dovrefell", East of the sun and west of the moon; old tales from the North. 1922.
# The Cat and the Mice

* related authors: Aesop.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
Perry index 79
* "Of the Catte and of the Rat", translated by William Caxton, edited by Joseph Jacobs, in The fables of Aesop, as first printed by William Caxton in 1484 (1484)
* "A Cat and Mice", translated by Roger L'Estrange, in Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists (1692)
* "The Cat and the Mice", translated by George Fyler Townsend, illustrated by Harrison Weir, in Three Hundred Æsop's Fables (1867)
* "The Cat and the Mice", translated by Vernon Stanley Jones, in Æsop's fables: A New Translation (1912)
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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# The Catalpa Expedition

CAPT. GEORGE S. ANTHONY
Commander of the Catalpa
THE CATALPA EXPEDITION
BY
Z. W. PEASE
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
NEW BEDFORD, MASS.
GEORGE S. ANTHONY
1897
Copyright, 1897,
By GEORGE S. ANTHONY.
All rights reserved.
INTRODUCTION
One hundred years after the Declaration of Independence, an American whaling captain, George S. Anthony, commemorated the event by enforcing another declaration of independence which set free the Irish political prisoners who were sentenced to a lifetime of servitude in the English penal colony in Australia.
The story of the rescue of these prisoners in 1876 is a brave incident of history which has hitherto been told too briefly. When Captain Anthony, commanding the bark Catalpa, landed the men for whose relief the expedition was planned, at New York, public interest in the romantic voyage was very intense. The boldness of the raid upon the English colony and the remarkable features of the conspiracy, excited universal curiosity concerning the details of the affair.
At that time international complications seemed certain, and there were many reasons why those concerned in the rescue furnished only meagre information of the inception of the plan and its progress during the two years which were spent in bringing it to a successful consummation.
Brief newspaper accounts appeared at the time, and this material has been worked over into ​magazine sketches. The frequency with which the original newspaper story has been revived during the years which have elapsed suggested that the interest was still alive and led to the writing of the story which follows. The facts were contributed by Captain Anthony, who placed his log-book and personal records at the disposition of the writer, and the present version is authorized by the man who was most prominent in it.
Some of the incidents of history which led up to the Fenian conspiracy in 1867 are compiled from familiar sources. The records of the court-martial are from transcripts of the proceedings made in Dublin expressly for this book, and have never previously been published.
No attempt has been made to embellish the narrative. It has been the effort of the writer to tell it simply, as he knows the gallant commander would best like to have it told.
New Bedford, Mass., 1897.
CONTENTS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
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 1933, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 90 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.
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# The Catalpa Expedition/Chapter 1

THE CATALPA EXPEDITION
CHAPTER I
SAILING OF THE CATALPA
On an April morning in 1875, the whaleship Catalpa lay at anchor in the harbor at New Bedford, ready for sea. Although the whaling industry was waning on the ebb tide, there were yet over a hundred whaleships sailing out of the port of New Bedford, and the departure seemed to call for no unusual notice.
It was a pretty spectacle, to be sure. The still waters, the green pastures running down to the shore of the lower harbor, and the ship, trim and taut. For, while a whaleship suggests to many a greasy, clumsy hulk, the outgoing whaler is actually as shipshape and clean as a man-of-war.
The yellow sun shone on the yellow hull of the Catalpa. Her rigging was aglow with fresh tar, and her gaudy colors and signal flags gave her a holiday appearance alow and aloft.
Presently the sailors are on the yards, shaking out the sails. The captain, with his papers under his arm, the very picture of a captain, by the way, ​strong and athletic in figure, with ruddy cheeks and life and fire in his bright eyes, goes aboard with the agent and a few friends, who are to accompany him down the bay.
The pilot instructs the mate to get under way, the anchors are soon on the bow and the chains stowed. The vessel sails out of the harbor, for in these days tugs are a luxury which the sailor despises, and soon the Catalpa is sailing briskly under fore and main topsail, main topgallant-sail, spanker, gafftopsail and staysail and flying jib.
Late in the afternoon the captain says good-by to his friends. The wind is blowing freshly from the southwest.
"Stand on the port tack two hours longer, then tack out and you will be clear of land," said the pilot, and, with the prosaic wishes of "good luck," departs.
Later the wind hauls to the southward. Before midnight the captain has the vessel under short sail and is working off shore.
And this seemingly commonplace commencement of a whaling voyage is, in truth, the story of the departure of one of the most boldly conceived and audacious expeditions against the English government which was ever planned,—the only important Fenian conspiracy which was ever entirely successful.
Standing upon one of the wharves on the waterfront, a man in a dark frieze ulster watched the ​incidents of the morning with absorbing interest. His eyes said a fond good-by to the captain as he rowed out to the vessel, for he dared not risk an appearance in the group which had assembled about the captain for a handshake. He was one of the few men who knew that greater perils than those which usually await the men who go down to the sea in ships must be met by the captain if he was true to a great trust, and that the vessel was going out in response to the cry of men who were outcast and in chains because they loved their country.
# The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce/Volume 1/Thither

THITHER
A CROWD of men were assisting at a dog-fight. The scene was one of indescribable confusion. In the center of the tumult the dogs, obscure in a cloud of dust, rolled over and over, howling, yarring, tearing each other with sickening ferocity. About them the hardly less ferocious men shouted, cursed and struck, encouraged the animals with sibilant utterances and threatened with awful forms of death and perdition all who tried to put an end to the combat. Caught in the thick of this pitiless mob I endeavored to make my way to a place of peace, when a burly blackguard, needlessly obstructing me, said derisively:
"I guess you are working pockets."
"You are a liar!" I retorted hotly.
That is all the provocation that I remember to have given.
# The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce/Volume 2

(Improve this image)
page
Copyright, 1909, by The Neale Publishing Company
page
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
Denied existence by the chief publishing houses of the country, this book owes itself to Mr. E. L. G. Steele, merchant, of this city. In attesting Mr. Steele's faith in his judgment and his friend, it will serve its author's main and best ambition.
A. B.
San Francisco, Sept. 4, 1891.
page
CONTENTS
PAGE
SOLDIERS
CIVILIANS
# The Californian/Volume 5

contents: IA
* Issue 25 IA
* Issue 26 IA
* Issue 27 IA
* Issue 28 IA
* Issue 29 IA
* Issue 30 IA
# The Californian/Volume 2

contents: IA
* Issue 7 IA
** The Californian/Volume 2/How Dr. Whitman Saved Oregon
* Issue 8 IA
* Issue 9 IA
** The Californian/Volume 2/Did Dr. Whitman Save Oregon?
* Issue 10 IA
* Issue 11 IA
* Issue 12 IA
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
# The Californian/Volume 3

contents: IA
* Issue 13 IA
* Issue 14 IA
* Issue 15 IA
* Issue 16 IA
* Issue 17 IA
* Issue 18 IA
# The Californian/Volume 4

contents: IA
* Issue 19 IA
* Issue 20 IA
* Issue 21 IA
* Issue 22 IA
* Issue 23 IA
* Issue 24 IA
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Sum

THE SUM
A little dreaming by the way, A little toiling day by day; A little pain, a little strife, A little joy,—and that is life.
A little short-lived summer's morn, When joy seems all so newly born, When one day's sky is blue above, And one bird sings,—and that is love.
A little sickening of the years, The tribute of a few hot tears Two folded hands, the failing breath, And peace at last,—and that is death.
Just dreaming, loving, dying so, The actors in the drama go— A flitting picture on a wall, Love, Death, the themes; but is that all?
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Stirrup Cup

THE STIRRUP CUP
Come, drink a stirrup cup with me,  Before we close our rouse. You 're all aglow with wine, I know:  The master of the house,  Unmindful of our revelry,  Has drowned the carking devil care,  And slumbers in his chair.
Come, drink a cup before we start;  We 've far to ride to-night. And Death may take the race we make,  And check our gallant flight:  But even he must play his part,  And tho' the look he wears be grim,  We 'll drink a toast to him!
For Death,—a swift old chap is he,  And swift the steed He rides. He needs no chart o'er main or mart,  For no direction bides.  So, come, a final, cup with me,  And let the soldiers' chorus swell,—  To hell with care, to hell!
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Tryst

THE TRYST
De night creep down erlong de lan',  De shadders rise an' shake, De frog is sta'tin' up his ban',  De cricket is awake; My wo'k is mos' nigh done, Celes',  To-night I won't be late, I 's hu'yin' thoo my level bes',  Wait fu' me by de gate.
De mockin'-bird 'll sen' his glee  A-thrillin' thoo and thoo, I know dat ol' magnolia-tree  Is smellin' des' fu' you; De jessamine erside de road  Is bloomin' rich an' white, My hea't 's a-th'obbin' 'cause it knowed  You 'd wait fu' me to-night.
Hit 's lonesome, ain't it, stan'in' thaih  Wid no one nigh to talk? But ain't dey whispahs in de aih  Erlong de gyahden walk? Don't somep'n kin' o' call my name,  An' say "he love you bes'"? Hit 's true, I wants to say de same,  So wait fu' me, Celes'.
Sing somep'n fu' to pass de time,  Outsing de mockin'-bird, You got de music an' de rhyme,  You beat him wid de word. I 's comin' now, my wo'k is done,  De hour has come fu' res', I wants to fly, but only run—  Wait fu' me, deah Celes'.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The River of Ruin

THE RIVER OF RUIN Along by the river of ruin They dally—the thoughtless ones, They dance and they dream By the side of the stream, As long as the river runs.
It seems all so pleasant and cheery— No thought of the morrow is theirs, And their faces are bright With the sun of delight, And they dream of no night-brooding cares.
The women wear garlanded tresses, The men have rings on their hands, And they sing in their glee, For they think they are free— They that know not the treacherous sands.
Ah, but this be a venturesome journey, Forever those sands are ashift, And a step to one side Means a grasp of the tide, And the current is fearful and swift.
For once in the river of ruin, What boots it, to do or to dare, For down we must go In the turbulent flow, To the desolate sea of Despair.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Sand-Man

I know a man  With face of tan, But who is ever kind;  Whom girls and boys  Leaves games and toys Each eventide to find.
 When day grows dim,  They watch for him, He comes to place his claim;  He wears the crown  Of Dreaming-town; The sand-man is his name.
 When sparkling eyes  Troop sleepywise And busy lips grow dumb;  When little heads  Nod toward the beds, We know the sand-man's come.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Seedling

AS a quiet little seedling  Lay within its darksome bed, To itself it fell a-talking,  And this is what it said:
"I am not so very robust,  But I'll do the best I can;" And the seedling from that moment  Its work of life began.
So it pushed a little leaflet  Up into the light of day, To examine the surroundings  And show the rest the way.
The leaflet liked the prospect,  So it called its brother, Stem; Then two other leaflets heard it,  And quickly followed them.
To be sure, the haste and hurry  Made the seedling sweat and pant; But almost before it knew it  It found itself a plant.
The sunshine poured upon it,  And the clouds they gave a shower; And the little plant kept growing  Till it found itself a flower.
Little folks, be like the seedling,  Always do the best you can; Every child must share life's labor  Just as well as every man.
And the sun and showers will help you  Through the lonesome, struggling hours, Till you raise to light and beauty  Virtue's fair, unfading flowers.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Song ("My soul, lost in the music's mist")

THE SONG
My soul, lost in the music's mist, Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst. The cheerless streets grew summer meads, The Son of Ph[oe]bus spurred his steeds, And, wand'ring down the mazy tune, December lost its way in June, While from a verdant vale I heard The piping of a love-lorn bird.
A something in the tender strain Revived an old, long-conquered pain, And as in depths of many seas, My heart was drowned in memories. The tears came welling to my eyes, Nor could I ask it otherwise; For, oh! a sweetness seems to last Amid the dregs of sorrows past.
It stirred a chord that here of late I 'd grown to think could not vibrate. It brought me back the trust of youth, The world again was joy and truth. And Avice, blooming like a bride, Once more stood trusting at my side. But still, with bosom desolate, The lorn bird sang to find his mate.
Then there are trees, and lights and stars, The silv'ry tinkle of guitars; And throbs again as throbbed that waltz, Before I knew that hearts were false. Then like a cold wave on a shore, Comes silence and she sings no more. I wake, I breathe, I think again, And walk the sordid ways of men.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/The Sparrow

THE SPARROW
A little bird, with plumage brown, Beside my window flutters down, A moment chirps its little strain, Ten taps upon my window-pane, And chirps again, and hops along, To call my notice to its song; But I work on, nor heed its lay, Till, in neglect, it flies away.
So birds of peace and hope and love Come fluttering earthward from above, To settle on life's window-sills, And ease our load of earthly ills; But we, in traffic's rush and din Too deep engaged to let them in, With deadened heart and sense plod on, Nor know our loss till they are gone.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Love's Castle

LOVE'S CASTLE
Key and bar, key and bar,  Iron bolt and chain! And what will you do when the King comes  To enter his domain?
Turn key and lift bar,  Loose, oh, bolt and chain! Open the door and let him in,  And then lock up again.
But, oh, heart, and woe, heart,  Why do you ache so sore? Never a moment's peace have you  Since Love hath passed the door.
Turn key and lift bar,  And loose bolt and chain; But Love took in his esquire, Grief,  And there they both remain.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Love's Draft

LOVE'S DRAFT The draft of love was cool and sweet  You gave me in the cup, But, ah, love's fire is keen and fleet,  And I am burning up.
Unless the tears I shed for you  Shall quench this burning flame, It will consume me through and through,  And leave but ash—a name.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Love's Phases

LOVE'S PHASES Love hath the wings of the butterfly,  Oh, clasp him but gently, Pausing and dipping and fluttering by  Inconsequently. Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh; Love hath the wings of the butterfly.
Love hath the wings of the eagle bold,  Cling to him strongly— What if the look of the world be cold,  And life go wrongly? Rest on his pinions, for broad is their fold; Love hath the wings of the eagle bold.
Love hath the voice of the nightingale,  Hearken his trilling— List to his song when the moonlight is pale,—  Passionate, thrilling. Cherish the lay, ere the lilt of it fail; Love hath the voice of the nightingale.
Love hath the voice of the storm at night,  Wildly defiant. Hear him and yield up your soul to his might,  Tenderly pliant. None shall regret him who heed him aright; Love hath the voice of the storm at night.
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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# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Love's Seasons

LOVE'S SEASONS
When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine  And the summer days are in their bloom, Then my love is deepest, oh, dearest heart of mine, When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine.
When the winds are moaning o'er the meadows chill and gray,  And the land is dim with winter gloom, Then for thee, my darling, love will have its way, When the winds are moaning o'er the meadows chill and gray.
In the vernal dawning with the starting of the leaf,  In the merry-chanting time of spring, Love steals all my senses, oh, the happy-hearted thief! In the vernal morning with the starting of the leaf.
Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear,  When the days are sighing out their grief, Thou art still my darling, dearest of the dear, Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear.
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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