OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Sermons of the Curé of Ars/“A curse will fall”

❧ A CURSE WILL FALL
How is it that you are complaining that your animals are dying? Undoubtedly you must have forgotten all those sins which have been committed in your outhouses and stables during the five or six months of winter. You have forgotten that the Holy Ghost has said that everywhere this sin shall be committed, the curse of the Lord will fall. How many young people -- alas! -- would still have their innocence if they had not attended certain winter gatherings [The French word is veillee, which means a vigil or a night watch, or an evening spent in company. In rural France, in this latter sense, it means an evening spent socially in a neighbour's house, especially during the winter months. In the Cure's day, these could be all-night affairs, with dancing, drinking, and much more. -- Trans.] young people who now perhaps will never come back to God? Again, as a result of these affairs, there are those young people who form associations which, most frequently, end in scandal and the loss of a girl's reputation. Then there are all the young libertines, who, having sold their own souls to the Devil, now set out to rob others of theirs. Yes, my children, the evil which results from these gatherings is incalculable. If you are Christians and you wish to save your souls and those of your children and others of your household, you should never hold these gatherings in your homes, or at least not unless you yourselves, one of the heads of the household, are going to see to it that God will not be offended by what goes on. Once you have all come in, you should close the door and refuse to admit anyone else. Begin your gatherings by reciting one or two decades of the Rosary to invoke the protection of the Blessed Virgin -- and this you can do if you put your mind to it. Then banish all lascivious and sinful songs; your bodies are temples of the Holy Ghost, and these profane your hearts and mouths; banish also all those stories that are only lies and yarns in any event and are most often directed against people consecrated to God, which makes them more sinful. And you should never allow your children into any other of these gatherings. Why do they want to get away from you, except for the purpose of avoiding supervision? If you are faithful to the fulfilment of your duties, God will be less offended and you less blameworthy.
# The Wandering Shepherdess of Exeter

THE
Wandering Shepherdess
OF
Exeter,
A True Love Song.
AND
The Turkish Lady's
Love for an English Slave.
FALKIRK:
Printed & Sold by T. Johnston. 1813.
* The Wandering Shepherdess of Exeter, A True Love Song
* The Turkish Lady's Love for an English Slave
Layout 2
This work was published in 1813 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 210 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Wandering Shepherdess of Exeter/Chapter 1

THE
WANDERING SHEPHERDESS
Tune—Factor's Garland.
Come all you old misers who heap up your gold, For to ruin your children, who's love's oft controul'd, By such old fractious parents, who 'gainst wedlock proves foe, Which oft proves young lovers' ruin, and sad overthrow.
In the County of Exeter there liv'd a rich 'Squire, Who had a young daughter, by birth-right his heir; But she lov'd a young Shepherd far below her degree, Which, alas! prov'd their ruin's and sad misery.
When her father came to know it, in a passion he did go, And he slew the young Shepherd with one fatal blow!
And while he lay bleeding, this young Lady drew near, And she rav'd, as distracted, for the loss of her dear!
O curs'd be your riches, since to true love such a foe! For my joys are transformed to a life of deep woe! Then, said the dying Shepherd, No, my love stays with you; What's mine shall evince it, as the flock you go throw:
Ihey're fifteen in number, my stock is but small, And is all I have saved, since I knew Shepherd-hall; Love, they will attend you, where-ever you go, And be your companions thro' the hail, wind and snow;
Then she took up his crook, his hat, and his plaid, And as a painful shepherdess ever since she's array'd.
O she went throw the flock,
and his sheep to her came, All a-bleating, her intreating, his love to proclaim.
O she wept and lamented, and a way she did go: And still they attend her, thro' the cold rain and snow. Now her Shepherd's ⟨no⟩ more, and her father soon died, For the loss of his child, and the murder beside.
But still she keeps a-wandering with the sheep, for to show That true love is more powerful than old misers do know. She has travel'd over Englaud, now to Scotland she's come, For to show love's controulers what may be their doom.
Nor such an instance of true love, dumb brutes ne'er did show, In respect they bare to her, and obeying her so.
The old Ram she calls Charlie, and Charlotte the Ewe, As Andrew and Sally, their own names they all know.
When she wants them to tarry on any green plain, Now, says she, you must say until I come again. Then with humble submission, they always do so, But when she long tarries, then a-mourning they go:
With bleating and fretting, they seem to lament; And when she returns, then they run to her bent: And by way of their welcome, bleats up in her face; And such instance of love was ne'er seen in such beasts.
She is no impostor, it's very well known; And asks no supply, but still lives on her own:
And if she would return
to her father's bright hall, She might live in great splendour, but that she ne'er shall:
But says that she'll wander till death end the strife, In lamenting her Shepherd, that she was not his wife: And thro' many strange countries with her flock loves to go, For to show cruel parents, what true love can do.
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# The Wandering Young Gentlewoman; or, The Cat-skins' Garland (3)

THE
Wandering Young Gentlewoman;
OR,
Cat-skins' Garland.
IN FIVE PARTS.
Part I. How an Esquire's Daughter near London was forced from home by her Father's cruelty, but through her tender Mother, was well educated and clothed in rich array. When she came to understand she was hated by her Father, she made a robe of Cat-skins, with which she wandered, carrying rich attire and jewels with her.
Part II. How one night she went to a Knight's house, where she begged for a night's lodging in the Stable, which was granted her.
Part III. A very comical and pleasant passage, which passed between Cat-skins and the young Esquire the Knight's Son.
Part IV. In what manner he came to catch Cat-skins in her rich attire, and how he fell in love with her, and got his Parent's consent; he going to bed, feigning himself sick, and made Cat-skins his nurse, with an account of their marriage.
Part V. An account of the death of her Mother and Sister. Her Father drest like a Beggar, went to her gate, where he tried for charity.
KILMARNOCK:
Printed for the Booksellers.
Cat-Skins’ Garland.
PART I.
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 Wandering Young Gentlewoman; or, the Cat-Skins' Garland (2)

THE
WANDERING YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN,
OR THE
CAT-SKINS’ GARLAND;
IN FIVE PARTS.
PART I.—How an Esquire’s daughter near London was forced from home by her Father’s cruelty, but through her tender Mother, was well educated, and clothed in rich array. When she came to understand she was hated by her Father, she made a robe of Cat’s Skins, with which she wandered, carrying rich attire and jewels with her.
PART II.—How one night she went to a Knight’s house, where she begged for a night’s lodging in the stable, which was granted her.
PART III.—A very comical and pleasant circumstance which passed between Cat-skins and the young Esquire, the Knight’s son.
PART IV.—In what manner he came to catch Cat-skins in her rich attire, and how he fell in love with her, and got his parents’ consent; he going to feign himself sick, and made Cat-skins his nurse, with an account of their marriage.
PART V.—An account of the death of her Mother and Sister. Her Father drest like a beggar, went to her gate, where he cried for charity.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
16.
THE CAT’S-SKIN GARLAND.
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 Wandering Shepherdess, or, the Betrayed Damsel (2)/Cauld Caledonia

Cauld Caledonia—By Burns.
# The Wandering Shepherdess of Exeter/Chapter 2

THE TURISH LADY.
Young virgins all I pray draw near, A pretty story you shall hear, It's of a Turkish Lady brave, Who fell in love with an English slave: A merchant ship that in Bristol lay, ⟨In⟩ which we sailed from that bay, ⟨By⟩ a Turkish rover o'ertook were we, ⟨And⟩ all of us made slaves to be.
They bound us down in irons strong,
They whip'd and slash'd us all along; ⟨No⟩ tongue can tell, I am certain sure, What we poor Sailors do endure. Come sit ye down, and listen a while, ⟨O⟩ Fortune on this Tar did smile: ⟨'Twas⟩ his fortune for to be ⟨Slave⟩ unto a rich Lady.
She drest herself in rich array, And went to view her slaves one day: Hearing the moan this young man made, She went to him, and thus she said: What countryman, young man, are you? I'm an Englishman, madam, that's true. I wish you was some Turk, said she, I'd ease you of your slavery.
I'd ease you of your slavery work,
If you'll consent to turn a Turk, And me, myself, to be your wife, For I do love you as my life. O no! O no! O no! said he, Your constant slave, dear Ma'am, I'll be: I'll rather be burnt at the stake, Before that I'll my God forsake.
This Lady to her chamber went,
To give her grief and sorrow vent: Little Cupid with his piercing dart, Did deeply wound this Lady's heart
She was resolved the next day To ease him of his slavery, And own herself to be his wife, For she did love him as her life.
She drest herself in rich array, And with this young man sail'd ⟨away,⟩ Until they came to Bristol shore, With jewels, diamonds, and rich store Houses and lands she left behind, And all her slaves who were confin'd; Unto her parents she bid adieu: By this you see what love can do.
Now she is turn'd a Christian brave, And married to her own slave, Who was in chains and bondage too: By this you see what love can do.
FINIS.
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T. Johnston, Printer, Falkirk.
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# The Wandering Wind

* The Wandering Wind, in The Court Magazine Volume III, 1833 (Summer Songs).
* The Wandering Wind, in National Lyrics, and Songs for Music (Songs for Summer Hours), 1834.
# The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/Change

CHANGE.
I would not care, at least so much, sweet Spring,  For the departing colour of thy flowers—  The green leaves early falling from thy boughs—  Thy birds so soon forgetful of their songs—  Thy skies, whose sunshine ends in heavy showers;—  But thou dost leave thy memory, like a ghost,  To haunt the ruined heart, which still recurs  To former beauty; and the desolate  Is doubly sorrowful when it recalls  It was not always desolate.
When those eyes have forgotten the smile they wear now, When care shall have shadowed that beautiful brow— When thy hopes and thy roses together lie dead, And thy heart turns back pining to days that are fled—
Then wilt thou remember what now seems to pass Like the moonlight on water, the breath-stain on glass: Oh! maiden, the lovely and youthful, to thee, How rose-touched the page of thy future must be! By the past, if thou judge it, how little is there But flowers that flourish, but hopes that are fair; And what is thy present? a southern sky's spring, With thy feelings and fancies like birds on the wing. As the rose by the fountain flings down on the wave Its blushes, forgetting its glass is its grave: So the heart sheds its colour on life's early hour, But the heart has its fading as well as the flower. The charmed light darkens, the rose-leaves are gone, And life, like the fountain, floats colourless on. Said I, when thy beauty's sweet vision was fled, How wouldst thou turn, pining, to days like the dead!
Oh! long ere one shadow shall darken that brow, Wilt thou weep like a mourner o'er all thou lovest now; When thy hopes, like spent arrows, fall short of their mark; Or, like meteors at midnight, make darkness more dark; When thy feelings lie fettered like waters in frost, Or, scattered too freely, are wasted and lost: For aye cometh sorrow, when youth has pass'd by— What saith the Arabian? Its memory's a sigh.
# The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems

THE
VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
LONDON: PRINTED BY JAMES MOYES, Castle Street, Leicester Square.
London, Published 1835, by Saunders & Otley.
THE
VOW OF THE PEACOCK,
AND
OTHER POEMS.
BY
L. E. L.
AUTHOR OF "THE IMPROVISATRICE," "THE GOLDEN VIOLET," &c.
LONDON:
SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET.
1835.
INTRODUCTION.
The idea of the following Poem was taken from a Picture by Mr. M'Clise, called "The Vow of the Peacock," exhibited this year at Somerset House. I have attempted to attach a narrative to the brilliant scene represented by the painting.
The fact of a lady in distress applying to some renowned knight for assistance, belongs as much to the history of chivalry as to its romance. Vows on the heron, the pheasant, and the peacock, to do some deed of arms, were common in the olden time. My story, founded on this picturesque custom, is entirely fanciful, though its scenes and manners are strictly historical.
L. E. L.
Contents. :
| | PAGE |
| THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK | 1 |
| SECOND CANTO | 64 |
| CLASSICAL SKETCHES | |
| SAPPHO | 115 |
| BACCHUS AND ARIADNE | 121 |
| UNKNOWN FEMALE HEAD | 131 |
| LEANDER AND HERO | 133 |
| HEAD OF ARIADNE | 143 |
| A NEREID FLOATING ON A SHELL | 146 |
| THE THESSALIAN FOUNTAIN | 149 |
| AN OLD MAN OVER THE BODY OF HIS SON | 152 |
| L’AMORE DOMINATORE | 154 |
| A SERIES OF TALES | |
| THE CASTILIAN NUPTUALS | 162 |
| THE LOVER’S ROCK | 175 |
| THE PAINTER | 184 |
| A VILLAGE TALE | 194 |
| THE SISTERS | 208 |
| THE KNIGHT’S TALE | 216 |
| FUGITIVE PIECES | |
| THE FACTORY | 231 |
| APRIL | 238 |
| GLENCOE | 242 |
PAGE :
| THE WRECK | 249 |
| THE MOON | 254 |
| THE FROZEN SHIP | 256 |
| THE MINSTREL’S MONITOR | 261 |
| THE SPIRIT AND THE ANGEL OF DEATH | 264 |
| THE LOST STAR | 271 |
| THE DANISH WARRIOR’S DEATH SONG | 274 |
| THE CHANGE | 277 |
| THE ASPEN-TREE | 280 |
| THE VIOLET | 283 |
| THE LITTLE SHROUD | 287 |
| THE CHURCHYARD | 291 |
| CHANGE | 296 |
| THE THREE BROTHERS | 299 |
| EDITH | 306 |
| THE FORGOTTEN ONE | 309 |
| THE ALTERED RIVER | 316 |
| THE CITY OF THE DEAD | 319 |
| ADMIRAL COLLINGWOOD | 324 |
| THE FIRST GRAVE | 329 |
| THE FEAST OF LIFE | 334 |
| FOLLOW ME! | 336 |
| THE LEGACY OF THE LUTE | 338 |
| THE FESTIVAL | 341 |
| THE MIDDLE TEMPLE GARDENS | 348 |
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 Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/A Nereid Floating on a Shell

A NEREID FLOATING ON A SHELL.
Thy dwelling is the coral cave, Thy element the blue sea wave, Thy music the wild billows dashing, Thy light the diamond's crystal flashing: I'd leave this earth to dwell with thee, Bright-haired daughter of the sea! It was an hour of lone starlight When first my eye caught thy sweet sight: Thy white feet press'd a silver shell, Love's own enchanted coracle; Thy fair arms waved like the white foam The seas dash from their billowy home;
And far behind, thy golden hair, A bright sail, floated on the air; And on thy lips there was a song, As music wafted thee along. They say, sweet daughter of the sea, Thy look and song are treachery; Thy smile is but the honied bait To lure thy lover to his fate. I know not, and I care still less; It is enough of happiness To be deceived. Oh, never yet Could love doubt—no, one doubt would set His fettered pinions free from all His false but most delicious thrall. Love cannot live and doubt; and I, Vowed slave to my bright deity,
Have but one prayer: Come joy, come ill, If you deceive, deceive me still; Better the heart in faith should die Than break beneath love's perjury.
# The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/An Old Man over the Body of his Son

AN OLD MAN OVER THE BODY OF HIS SON.
I am too proud by far to weep,  Though earth had nought so dear As was the Soldier Youth to me  Now sleeping on that bier. It were a stain upon his fame Would do his laurel crown a shame,  To shed one single tear. It was a blessed lot to die In battle, and for liberty!
He was my first, my only child,  And when my race was run, I was so proud to send him forth  To do as I had done.
It was his last, his only field: They brought him back upon his shield,  But victory was won. I cannot weep when I recall Thy land has cause to bless thy fall.
When others tell their children all  The fame that warriors win, I must sit silent, and but think  On what my child had been. It is a father's joy to see The young eyes glow exultingly  When warlike tales begin; And yet I know no living one I would change for my sleeping Son.
# The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/Admiral Collingwood

ADMIRAL COLLINGWOOD.
Methinks it is a glorious thing  To sail upon the deep; A thousand sailors under you,  Their watch and ward to keep: To see your gallant battle-flag  So scornfully unrolled, As scarcely did the wild wind dare  To stir one crimson fold:
To watch the frigates scattered round,  Like birds upon the wing; Yet know they only wait your will—  It is a glorious thing.
Our admiral stood on the deck,  And looked upon the sea; He held the glass in his right hand,  And far and near looked he:
He could not see one hostile ship  Abroad upon the main; From east to west, from north to south,  It was his own domain. "Good news for England this, good news,"  Forth may her merchants fare; Thick o'er the sea, no enemy  Will cross the pathway there.
A paleness came upon his cheek,  A shadow to his brow;
Alas! our good Lord Collingwood,  What is it ails him now? Tears stand within the brave man's eyes,  Each softer pulse is stirred: It is the sickness of the heart,  Of hope too long deferred.
He's pining for his native seas,  And for his native shore; All but his honour he would give,  To be at home once more. He does not know his children's fare;  His wife might pass him by, He is so altered, did they meet,  With an unconscious eye:
He has been many years at sea,  He's worn with wind and wave; He asks a little breathing space  Between it and his grave: He feels his breath come heavily,  His keen eye faint and dim; It was a weary sacrifice  That England asked of him.
He never saw his home again—  The deep voice of the gun, The lowering of his battle-flag,  Told when his life was done. His sailors walked the deck and wept;  Around them howled the gale;
And far away two orphans knelt—  A widow's cheek grew pale.
Amid the many names that light  Our history's blazoned line, I know not one, brave Collingwood,  That touches me like thine.
# The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/April

APRIL.
Of all the months that fill the year  Give April's month to me, For earth and sky are then so filled  With sweet variety.
The apple-blossoms' shower of rose,  The pear-tree's pearly hue, As beautiful as Woman's blush,  As evanescent too.
The purple light, that like a sigh  Comes from the violet bed,
As there the perfumes of the East  Had all their odours shed.
The wild-briar rose, a fragrant cup  To hold the morning's tear; The bird's-eye, like a sapphire star;  The primrose, pale like fear.
The balls that hang like drifted snow  Upon the guelderose; The woodbine's fairy trumpets, where  The elf his war-note blows.
On every bough there is a bud,  In every bud a flower; But scarcely bud or flower will last  Beyond the present hour.
Now comes a shower-cloud o'er the sky,  Then all again sunshine; Then clouds again, but brightened with  The rainbow's coloured line.
Ay, this, this is the month for me!  I could not love a scene Where the blue sky was always blue,  The green earth always green.
It is like love; oh, love should be  An ever-changing thing,— The love that I could worship must  Be ever on the wing.
The chain my mistress flings round me  Must be both brief and bright;
Or formed of opals, which will change  With every changing light.
To-morrow she must turn to sighs  The smiles she wore to-day; This moment's look of tenderness,  The next one must be gay.
Sweet April! thou the emblem art  Of what my love must be; One varying like the varying bloom  Is just the love for me.
# The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/Edith

EDITH.
Weep not, weep not, that in the spring  We have to make a grave; The flowers will grow, the birds will sing,  The early roses wave; And make the sod we're spreading fair,  For her who sleeps below: We might not bear to lay her there  In winter frost and snow.
We never hoped to keep her long,  When but a fairy child, With dancing step, and birdlike song,  And eyes that only smiled;
A something shadowy and frail  Was even in her mirth; She look'd a flower that one rough gale  Would bear away from earth.
There was too clear and blue a light  Within her radiant eyes; They were too beautiful, too bright,  Too like their native skies: Too changeable the rose which shed  Its colour on her face, Now burning with a passionate red,  Now with just one faint trace.
She was too thoughtful for her years,  Its shell the spirit wore;
And when she smiled away our fears,  We only feared the more. The crimson deepen'd on her cheek,  Her blue eyes shone more clear, And every day she grew more weak,  And every hour more dear.
Her childhood was a happy time,  The loving and beloved; Yon sky which was her native clime  Hath but its own removed. This earth was not for one, to whom  Nothing of earth was given; 'Twas but a resting-place, her tomb,  Between the world and heaven.
# The Slave Ship

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Slave Ship."
* 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 Slave-Ship, a poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler
* The Slave Ship, a poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
# The Way of Salvation and of Perfection

The Centenary Edition.
THE WAY OF SALVATION
AND
OF PERFECTION
Meditations - Pious Reflections - Spiritual Treatises
BY St. ALPHONSUS de LIGUORI, Doctor of the Church.
EDITED BY REV. EUGENE GRIMM, Priest of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer.
NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, AND ST. LOUIS: BENZIGER BROTHERS, Printers to the Holy Apostolic See.
| R. WASHBOURNE, 18 Paternoster Row, London. | M. H. GILL & SON, 50 Upper O'Connell Street, Dublin. |
page
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PART I.
MEDITATIONS.
SUITABLE FOR ALL TIMES DURING THE YEAR. MEDITATION
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