OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Spirit of the Nation/Epigram (11)

EPIGRAM.
When Brougham, in his early days, By manly deeds, won manly praise, He scorned a pedigree to trace From any lordly robber-race; But now in senile strain he talks, Ah heir of Burgham and of Vaux, Degraded, fallen, and discontent. He well may think on his descent!
# The Spirit of the Nation/Epigram (9)

EPIGRAM.
TO .....................
Your casuists and clerics hold it isn't fair at all To plunder Peter for the sake of clearing scores with Paul; But what the d—l would they say to such a lad as you, Who'd plunder Peter and not pay to Paul a single sous?
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell

The
Poetical Works
of
Willam Motherwell.
From a bust by James Fillans.
Glasgow. Published 1847, by David Robertson.
Motherwell's
Poems.
The
Poetical Works
of
William Motherwell.
with
Memoir.
by
James M'Conechy, Esq.
Third Edition, Greatly Enlarged.
Glasgow: David Robertson.
Oliver and Boyd, Edinburgh. Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, London. James M'Glashan, Dublin.
MDCCCXLIX.
Glasgow:
Printed by S and T. Dunn Prince’s Square
To
Lady Campbell,
This New and Enlarged Edition
of The Poems of Her Kinsman,
William Motherwell,
Is Respectfully Dedicated,
by
The Publisher.
CONTENTS.
Page
Songs.
Posthumous Pieces.
Second Edition.
Page
Posthumous Pieces.
Third Edition.
Page
Lays of the Langbein Ritters:—
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/A Monody

A Monody.
I.
Hour after hour, Day after day, Some gentle flower Or leaf gives way Within the bower Of human hearts; Tear after tear In anguish starts, For, green or sere, Some loved leaf parts From the arbère Of human hearts;— The keen winds blow; Rain, hail and snow Fall everywhere! And one by one, As life's sands run, These loved things fare
Till plundered hearts at last are won, To woo despair.
II.
Why linger on, Fate’s mockery here, When each is gone, Heart-loved, heart-dear? Stone spells to stone Its weary tale, How graves were filled, How cheeks waxed pale, How hearts were chilled With biting gale, And life’s strings thrilled With sorrow’s wail. Flower follows flower In the heart’s bower, To fleet away; While leaf on leaf, Sharp grief on grief,— Night chasing day, Tell as they fall, all joy is brief, Life but decay.
III.
The sea-weed thrown By wave or wind, On strand unknown, Lone grave to find; Methinks may own, Of kindred more Than I dare claim On life's bleak shore. Name follows name For evermore, As swift waves shame Slow waves before;— For keen winds blow; Rain, hail, and snow Fall everywhere, Till life's sad tree, In mockery, Skeletoned bare Of every leaf, is left to be Mate of despair.
IV.
The world is wide, Is rich and fair,
Its things of pride Flaunt everywhere; But can it hide Its hollowness One mighty shell Of bitterness, One grand farewell To happiness, One solemn knell To love's caress, It seems to me. The shipless sea Hath bravery more Than this waste scene, Where what hath been Beloved of yore, In the heart's bower so fresh and green, Fades evermore!
V.
From all its kind, This wasted heart— This moody mind Now drifts apart;
It longs to find The tideless shore. Where rests the wreck Of Heretofore,— The glorious wreck Of mental ore; The great heartbreak Of loves no more. I drift alone, For all are gone Dearest to me; And hail the wave That to the grave On hurrieth me: Welcome, thrice welcome, then, thy wave Eternity!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/A Solemn Conceit

A Solemn Conceit.
Stately trees are growing, Lusty winds are blowing, And mighty rivers flowing On, for ever on. As stately forms were growing, As lusty spirits blowing, And as mighty fancies flowing On, for ever on; But there has been leave-taking, Sorrow and heart-breaking, And a moan, pale Echo's making, For the gone, for ever gone!
Lovely stars are gleaming, Bearded lights are streaming, And glorious suns are beaming On, for ever on. As lovely eyes were gleaming, As wondrous lights were streaming, And as glorious minds were beaming On, for ever on;—
But there has been soul-sundering, Wailing, and sad wondering; For graves grow fat with plundering The gone, for ever gone!
We see great eagles soaring, We hear deep oceans roaring, And sparkling fountains pouring On, for ever on. As lofty ones were soaring, As sonorous voices roaring, And as sparkling wits were pouring On, for ever on;— But, pinions have been shedding, And voiceless darkness spreading, Since a measure Death's been treading O'er the gone, for ever gone!
Every thing is sundering, Every one is wondering, And this huge globe goes thundering On, for ever on. But, 'mid this weary sundering, Heart-breaking and sad wondering,
And this huge globe's rude thundering On, for ever on, I would that I were dreaming, Where little flowers are gleaming, And the long green grass is streaming O'er the gone, for ever gone!
# The Poetical Works of William Cowper (Benham)/Votum

VOTUM.
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/A Caveat to the Wind

A Caveat to the Wind.
Sing high, sing low, thou moody wind, It skills not—for thy glee Is ever of a fellow-kind With mine own fantasy. Go, sadly moan or madly blow In fetterless free will, Wild spirit of the clouds ! but know I ride thy comrade still ; Loving thy humours, I can be Sad, wayward, wild, or mad, like thee.
Go, and with light and noiseless wing, Fan yonder murmuring stream— Brood o’er it, as the sainted thing, The spirit of its dream ; Give to its voice a sweeter tone Of calm and heartfelt gladness ; Or, to those old trees, woe-begone, Add moan of deeper sadness,—
It likes me still; for I can be All sympathy of heart, like thee.
Rush forth, in maddest wrath, to rouse The billows of the deep; And in the blustering storm, carouse With fiends that never weep. Go, tear each fluttering rag away, Outshriek the mariner, And hoarsely knell the mermaid's lay Of death and shipwreck drear;— What reck I, since I still dare be Harsh, fierce, and pitiless, like thee?
I love thy storm-shout on the land, Thy storm-shout on the sea; Though shapes of death rise on each hand, Dismay troops not with me. With iron-cheek, that never showed The channel of a tear, With haughty heart, that never bowed Beneath a dastard fear, I rush with thee o'er land and sea, Rejoicing in thy thundering glee.
Lovest thou those cloisters, old and dim, Where ghosts at midnight stray, To pour abroad unearthly hymn, And fright the stars away? Add to their sighs thy hollow tone Of saddest melancholy— For I, too, love such places lone, And court such guests unjolly: Such haunts, such mates, in sooth, to me Be welcome as they are to thee.
Blow as thou wilt, blow any where, Wild spirit of the sky, It matters not—earth, ocean, air, Still echoes to my cry, "I follow thee for, where thou art, My spirit, too, must be, While each chord of this wayward heart, Thrills to thy minstrelsy; And he that feels so sure must be Meet co-mate for a shrew like thee!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Affectest Thou the Pleasures of the Shade?

Affectest Thou the Pleasures of the Shade?
Affectest thou the pleasures of the shade, And pastoral customs of the olden time, When gentle shepherd piped to gentle maid On oaten reed, his quaint and antique rhyme? Then welcome to the green and mossy nook, The forest dark and silver poppling brook, And flowers in fragrant indolence that blossom On the sequestered valley's sloping bosom— Where in the leafy halls glad strains are pealing, The woodland songsters' amorous thoughts revealing: Look how the morning's eager kisses wake The clouds that guard the Orient, blushing red— Behold heaven's phantom-chasing Sovereign shake The golden honours of his graceful head Above that earth his day-dawn saw so fair!— Now damsels lithe trip lightsomely away, To bathe their clustered brows and bosoms bare In virgin dews of budding, balmy May!
# The Raven Days

Along with “Our Hills” and “Laughter in the Senate”, this poem is Sidney Lanier’s lament for the devastated land and people of the American South in those desperate years following the American Civil War. The poem was signed and dated Prattville, Alabama, 1868.
Our hearths are gone out, and our hearts are broken,  And but the ghosts of homes to us remain, And ghostly eyes and hollow sighs give token  From friend to friend of an unspoken pain.   O, Raven Days, dark Raven Days of sorrow,  Bring to us, in your whetted ivory beaks, Some sign out of the far land of To-morrow,  Some strip of sea-green dawn, some orange streaks.   Ye float in dusky files, forever croaking—  Ye chill our manhood with your dreary shade. Pale, in the dark, not even God invoking,  We lie in chains, too weak to be afraid.   O Raven Days, dark Raven Days of sorrow,  Will ever any warm light come again? Will ever the lit mountains of To-morrow  Begin to gleam across the mournful plain?
# The Raven and Other Poems/The Valley of Unrest

Page 6
THE VALLEY OF UNREST.
Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, Nightly, from their azure towers, To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all day The red sun-light lazily lay. Now each visiter shall confess The sad valley's restlessness. Nothing there is motionless— Nothing save the airs that brood Over the magic solitude. Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through the unquiet Heaven Uneasily, from morn till even, Over the violets there that lie In myriad types of the human eye— Over the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave:—from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops. They weep:—from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems.
# The Raven and Other Poems

transcription of original, pages iii-viii
THE RAVEN
AND
OTHER POEMS.
BY
EDGAR A. POE.
NEW YORK:
WILEY AND PUTNAM, 161 BROADWAY.
1845.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by
EDGAR A. POE,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.
T. B. Smith, Stereotyper,
216 William Street.
* TO THE NOBLEST OF HER SEX—
* TO THE AUTHOR OF
* "THE DRAMA OF EXILE"—
* TO MISS ELIZABETH BARRETT BARRETT,
* OF ENGLAND,
* I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME,
* WITH THE MOST ENTHUSIASTIC ADMIRATION
* AND WITH THE MOST SINCERE ESTEEM.
* E. A. P.
PREFACE
THESE trifles are collected and republished chiefly with a view to their redemption from the many improvements to which they have been subjected while going at random "the rounds of the press." If what I have written is to circulate at all, I am naturally anxious that it should circulate as I wrote it. In defence of my own taste, nevertheless, it is incumbent upon me to say, that I think nothing in this volume of much value to the public, or very creditable to myself. Events not to be controlled have prevented me from making, at any time, any serious effort in what, under happier circumstances, would have been the field of my choice. With me poetry has been not a purpose, but a passion; and the passions should be held in reverence; they must not--they cannot at will be excited with an eye to the paltry compensations, or the more paltry commendations, of mankind.
E. A. P.
CONTENTS.
The Raven . . . . . 1
The Valley of Unrest . . . . . 6
Bridal Ballad . . . . . 7
The Sleeper . . . . . 9
The Coliseum . . . . . 12
Lenore . . . . . 14
Catholic Hymn . . . . . 15
Israfel . . . . . 16
Dream-land . . . . . 18
Sonnet--to Zante . . . . . 20
The City in the Sea . . . . . 21
To One in Paradise . . . . . 23
Eulalie--A Song . . . . . 24
To F--s S. O----d . . . . . 25
To F-- . . . . . 25
Sonnet--Silence . . . . . 26
The Conqueror Worm . . . . . 27
The Haunted Palace . . . . . 29
Scenes from "Politian" . . . . . 31
POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.
Sonnet--to Science . . . . . 55
Al Aaraaf . . . . . 56
Tamerlane . . . . . 74
A Dream . . . . . 83
Romance . . . . . 84
Fairy-land . . . . . 85
To ---- . . . . . 87
To the River---- . . . . . 88
The Lake--To---- . . . . . 89
Song . . . . . 90
To Helen . . . . . 91
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Raven and Other Poems/Bridal Ballad

Page 7
BRIDAL BALLAD
The ring is on my hand,  And the wreath is on my brow; Satin and jewels grand Are all at my command,  And I am happy now.
And my lord he loves me well;
 But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell —
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell In the battle down the dell,
 And who is happy now.
But he spoke to re-assure me,
 And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!"
And thus the words were spoken,  And this the plighted vow, And, though my faith be broken, And, though my heart be broken, Here is a ring, as token  That I am happy now!
Would God I could awaken!  For I dream I know not how! And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken, — Lest the dead who is forsaken  May not be happy now.
# The Raven (Whitman)

This poem was written as a valentine to Edgar Allan Poe in 1848.
Raven, from the dim dominions
On the Night's Plutonian shore, Oft I hear thy dusky pinions Wave and flutter round my door— See the shadow of thy pinions Float along the moon-lit floor;
Often, from the oak-woods glooming Round some dim ancestral tower, In the lurid distance looming— Some high solitary tower— I can hear thy storm-cry booming Through the lonely midnight hour.
When the moon is at the zenith, Thou dost haunt the moated hall, Where the marish flower greeneth O'er the waters, like a pall— Where the House of Usher leaneth, Darkly nodding to its fall:
There I see thee, dimly gliding— See thy black plumes waving slow— In its hollow casements hiding, When their shadow yawns below, To the sullen tarn confiding The dark secrets of their woe:—
See thee, when the stars are burning In their cressets, silver clear— When Ligeia's spirit yearning For the earth-life, wanders near— When Morella's soul returning, Weirdly whispers "I am here."
Once, within a realm enchanted, On a far isle of the seas, By unearthly visions haunted, By unearthly melodies, Where the evening sunlight slanted Golden through the garden trees—
Where the dreamy moonlight dozes, Where the early violets dwell, Listening to the silver closes Of a lyric loved too well, Suddenly, among the roses, Like a cloud, thy shadow fell.
Once, where Ulalume lies sleeping, Hard by Auber's haunted mere, With the ghouls a vigil keeping, On that night of all the year, Came thy souding pinions, sweeping Through the leafless woods of Weir!
Oft, with Proserpine I wander On the Night's Plutonian shore, Hoping, fearing, while I ponder On thy loved and lost Lenore— On the demon doubts that sunder Soul from soul forevermore;
Trusting, though with sorrow laden, That when life's dark dream is o'er, By whatever name the maiden Lives within thy mystic lore, Eiros, in that distant Aidenn, Shall his Charmion meet once more.
# The Raven (Grimm)

* related portals: Brothers Grimm.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
English-language translations of Die Rabe include:
* "The Raven", translated by Lucy Crane, illustrated by Walter Crane, in Household stories from the collection of the Bros Grimm (1882)
* "The Raven", translated by Margaret Raine Hunt, in Grimm's Household Tales, Volume 2 (1884)
* "The Raven", translated by Alice Lucas, illustrated by Arthur Rackham, in The Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm (1909)
* "The Raven", translated by Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes, edited by Marian Edwardes, illustrated by Robert Anning Bell, in Grimm's Household Tales (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.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Statutes at Large (Ruffhead)/Volume 3

THE
Statutes at Large,
From the First Year of
KING JAMES the First
To the Tenth Year of the Reign of
KING WILLIAM the THIRD.
To which is prefixed,
A TABLE of the TITLES of all the Publick and Private Statutes during that Time.
VOLUME the THIRD
LONDON:
MDCCLXIII.
page
# The Statutes at Large (Ruffhead)/Volume 2

THE
Statutes at Large,
From the First Year of
KING EDWARD the FOURTH
To the End of the Reign of
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
To which is prefixed,
A TABLE of the TITLES of all the Publick and Private Statutes during that Time.
VOLUME the SECOND
LONDON:
MDCCLXIII.
page
# The Statutes at Large (Ruffhead)/Volume 5/Dunstable Roads Act 1722

This Act is no longer be in force in England, Scotland or the United Kingdom, may modify, revive or repeal an earlier Act and may have been modified, repealed or revived by subsequent Act of Parliament. Note: Sections marked with were amended, repealed or revived, by later acts to this.
Layout 2
CAP. XI.
An Act for repairng and widening the road leading from the Black Bull in Dunstable in the county of Bedford, to the Way turning out of the said Road up to Shafford-House in the county of Hertford.
8 Geo. 2. c. 9. 10 Geo. 2. c. 24.The Toll granted by this Act is to have Continuance from 1 June 1723, for 21 years. [Further continued by 24 Geo. 2. c. 10.] PR.
This work is in the public domain worldwide because it was created by a public body of the United Kingdom with Crown Status and commercially published before 1974.
See Crown copyright artistic works, Crown copyright non-artistic works and List of Public Bodies with Crown Status.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Statutes at Large (Ruffhead)/Volume 4

THE
Statutes at Large,
From the Tenth Year of
KING WILLIAM the THIRD
To the End of the Reign of
QUEEN ANNE.
To which is prefixed,
A TABLE of the TITLES of all the Publick and Private Statutes during that Time.
VOLUME the FOURTH.
LONDON:
MDCCLXIII.
page
# The Statutes at Large (Ruffhead)/Volume 5

THE
Statutes at Large,
From the First Year of the Reign of
KING GEORGE the FIRST
To the Third Year of the Reign of
KING GEORGE the SECOND
To which is prefixed,
A TABLE of the TITLES of all the Publick and Private Statutes during that Time.
VOLUME the FIFTH.
LONDON:
MDCCLXIII.
page
# The Royal Book of Oz/Chapter X

Chapter 10
Princess Ozma and Betsy Bobbin Talk It Over
"Dorothy must be having a lovely time at the Scarecrow's," remarked Betsy Bobbin to Ozma one afternoon as they sat reading in the Royal Gardens, several days after Doro-
"One always has a jolly time at the Scarecrow's," laughed the little Queen of Oz. "I must look in my Magic Picture and see what they are doing. Too bad Serpent she missed the A-B-Sea Serpent and Rattlesnakes.
Weren't they the funniest creatures?"
Both the little girls (for Ozma is really just a little girl) went off into a gale of laughter. The two queer creatures had followed the Scarecrow's advice and had spent their vacation in the Emerald City and, ​partly because they were so dazzled by their sur-surroundings, and partly because they have no sort of memories whatever, they never mentioned the Scarecrow himself, nor said anything about his plan to hunt his family tree. They talked incessantly of the Mer City and told innumerable A-B-Sea stories to Scraps and the Tin Woodmen and the children of the Emerald City.
When they were ready to go, the A-B-Sea Serpent snapped off its X block for Ozma. X, he said, meant almost everything, and pretty well expressed his gratitude to the lovely little ruler of Oz. Ozma, in turn, gave each of the visitors an emerald collar, and that very morning they had started back to the Munchkin River, and all the celebrities of Oz had gotten up to see them off.
"Maybe they'll come again some time," said Betsy Bobbin, swinging her feet. "But look, Ozma, here comes a messenger." A messenger it surely was, dressed in the quaint red costume of the Quadlings. It was from Glinda, the Good Sorceress, and caused the Princess to sigh with vexation.
"Tell Jack Pumpkinhead to harness the Saw Horse to the red wagon," said Ozma, after glancing hastily at the little note. "The Horners and Hoppers are at ​war again. And tell the Wizard to make ready for a journey."
"May I come too?" asked Betsy. Ozma nodded with a troubled little frown, and Betsy bustled off importantly. Not many little girls are called upon to help settle wars and rule a country as wonderful as Oz.
The Horners and Hoppers are a quarrelsome and curious folk living in the Quadling mountains, and soon Ozma, Jack Pumpkinhead, Betsy and the Wizard ​of Oz were rattling off at the best speed the Saw Horse could manage. This was pretty fast, for the little horse, being made of wood and magically brought to life, never tired, and could outrun anything on legs in the fairy Kingdom of Oz.
But the fact that interests us is that Ozma did not look in the Magic Picture, nor see what exciting adventures the Scarecrow and Dorothy really were having!
As for Professor Wogglebug, who had caused all the trouble, he was busily at work on the twelfth chapter of the Royal Book of Oz, which he had modestly headed:
H. M. WOGGLEBUG T. E., PRINCE OF BUGS,
Cultured and Eminent Educator and also Great Grand and General Genealogist of Oz.
# The Teamster

* "The Teamster" in The Ascent of Man (1889)
* "The Teamster" in Poetical works of Mathilde Blind (1900)
# The Tears of Scotland

Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn! Thy sons, for valour long renown'd, Lie slaughter'd on their native ground; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door:— In smoky ruins sunk they lie, The monuments of cruelty.
The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war,— Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast and curses life. Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks Where once they fed their wanton flocks: Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain; Thy infants perish on the plain.
What boots it then, in every clime, Through the wide-spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiminish'd blaze? Thy towering spirit now is broke, Thy neck is bended to the yoke:— What foreign arms could never quell By civil rage and rancour fell.
The rural pipe and merry lay No more shall cheer the happy day; No social scenes of gay delight Beguile the dreary winter night; No strains but those of sorrow flow, And nought be heard but sounds of woe,— While the pale phantoms of the slain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain.
O baneful cause, O fatal morn, Accursed to ages yet unborn! The sons against their father stood, The parent shed his children's blood. Yet, when the rage of battle ceased, The victor's soul was not appeased;— The naked and forlorn must feel Devouring flames and murdering steel!
The pious mother, doom'd to death, Forsaken wanders o'er the heath: The bleak wind whistles round her head, Her helpless orphans cry for bread: Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, She views the shades of night descend; And, stretch'd beneath the inclement skies, Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.
While the warm blood bedews my veins, And unimpair'd remembrance reigns, Resentment of my country's fate Within my filial breast shall beat; And, spite of her insulting foe, My sympathising verse shall flow. Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn!
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