OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Executive Order 10005

more info.
See the Notes section for a list of Executive Orders affected by or related to the issuance of this Executive Order.
Signed by President Harry S. Truman Tuesday, October 5, 1948
Federal Register page & date: 13 FR 5854, Thursday, October 7, 1948
Executive Order 10005 of October 5, 1948
Establishing the President's Advisory Commission on the Relation of Federal Laws to Puerto Rico
Whereas section 9 of the Organic Act of Puerto Rico, 39 Stat. 954 (48 U.S.C. 734), provides that "the statutory laws of the United States not locally inapplicable, except as hereinbefore or hereinafter otherwise provided, shall have the same force and effect in Puerto Rico as in the United States"; and
Whereas section 49b(3) of the said Act, which was added by section 6 of the act of August 5, 1947, 61 Stat. 772 (48 U.S.C. 793b), provides that "the President of the United States may, from time to time, after hearing, promulgate Executive orders expressly excepting Puerto Rico from the application of any Federal law, not expressly declared by Congress to be applicable to Puerto Rico, which as contemplated by section 9 of this act is inapplicable by reason of local conditions";
Now, Therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the said Organic Act of Puerto Rico, and as President of the United States, it is ordered as follows:
* There is hereby created a commission to be known as the President's Advisory Commission on the Relation of Federal Laws to Puerto Rico, which shall be composed of nine members to be designated by the President and to serve without compensation.
* The Commission shall from time to time make recommendations to the President concerning the exercise of his power under section 49b(3) of the Organic Act of Puerto Rico to exempt Puerto Rico from the application of Federal laws. To that end, the Commission is authorized to examine into, and to hold hearings on, the inapplicability of Federal laws to Puerto Rico by reason of local conditions.
* All executive departments and agencies of the Federal Government are authorized and directed to cooperate with the Commission in its work and to furnish the Commission such information as the Commission may require in the performance of its duties.
* The Commission shall continue to exist until the President terminates its existence by Executive order.

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This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
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# Executive Order 1001

more info.
Signed by President Theodore Roosevelt Friday, January 1, 1909
Mr. C. M. Huntington may be admitted to examination without reference to the provisions of the civil-service rules disqualifying him for examination.
The White House
       January 1, 1909.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
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# Executive Order/1862/000001.0

The insurrection which has for some time prevailed in several of the States of this Union, including Louisiana, having temporarily subverted and swept away the civil institutions of that State, including the judiciary and the judicial authorities of the Union, so that it has become necessary to hold the State in military occupation, and it being indispensably necessary that there shall be some judicial tribunal existing there capable of administering justice, I have therefore thought it proper to appoint, and I do hereby constitute, a provisional court, which shall be a court of record, for the State of Louisiana; and I do hereby appoint Charles A. Peabody, of New York, to be a provisional judge to hold said court, with authority to hear, try, and determine all causes, civil and criminal, including causes in law, equity, revenue, and admiralty, and particularly all such powers and jurisdiction as belong to the district and circuit courts of the United States, conforming his proceedings so far as possible to the course of proceedings and practice which has been customary in the courts of the United States and Louisiana, his judgment to be final and conclusive. And I do hereby authorize and empower the said judge to make and establish such rules and regulations as may be necessary for the exercise of his jurisdiction, and empower the said judge to appoint a prosecuting attorney, marshal, and clerk of the said court, who shall perform the functions of attorney, marshal, and clerk according to such proceedings and practice as before mentioned and such rules and regulations as may be made and established by said judge. These appointments are to continue during the pleasure of the President, not extending beyond the military occupation of the city of New Orleans or the restoration of the civil authority in that city and in the State of Louisiana. These officers shall be paid, out of the contingent fund of the War Department, compensation as follows:
The judge at the rate of $3,500 per annum; the prosecuting attorney, including the fees, at the rate of $3,000 per annum; the marshal, including the fees, at the rate of $3,000 per annum; and the clerk, including the fees, at the rate of $2,500 per annum; such compensations to be certified by the Secretary of War. A copy of this order, certified by the Secretary of War and delivered to such judge, shall be deemed and held to be a sufficient commission.
Let the seal of the United States be hereunto affixed.

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This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
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# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/The Vigil of Arms

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Pages 279-280
CHIVALRIC SKETCHES.—NO. I.
The Vigil of Arms.*
A sounding step was heard by night,
 In a church where the mighty slept,
As a mail-clad youth, till morning's light,
 'Midst the tombs his vigil kept.
He walk'd in dreams of Power and Fame,
 He lifted a proud bright eye,
For the hours were few that withheld his name
 From the roll of Chivalry.
Down the moon-lit aisles he paced alone,
 With a free and stately tread,
And the floor gave back a muffled tone
 From the couches of the Dead:
The silent many that round him lay,
 The crown’d and helm'd that were,
The haughty chiefs of the war-array—
 —Each in his sepulchre!
But no dim warning of Time or Fate
 That youth's flush'd hope could chill,
He moved through the trophies of buried state
 With each proud pulse throbbing still.
He heard, as the wind through the chancel sung,
 A swell of the trumpet's breath,
He look’d to the banners, on high that hung,
 And not to the dust beneath.
And a royal masque of splendour seem'd
 Before him to unfold,
Through the solemn arches on it stream'd,
 With many a gleam of gold;
There were crested Knight and gorgeous Dame,
 Glittering athwart the gloom,
And he follow'd till his bold step came
 To his Warrior-Father's tomb.
But there the still and shadowy might
 Of the monumental stone,
And the holy sleep of the soft lamp's light,
 That over its quiet shone,
And the image of that Sire who died
 In his noon-day of renown—
—These had a power unto which the pride
 Of fiery life bow'd down.
And a spirit from his early years
 Came back o'er his thoughts to move,
Till his eye was fill'd with memory's tears,
 And his heart with childhood’s love!
And he look'd, with a change in his softening glance,
 To the armour o'er the grave,
For there they hung, the shield and lance,
 And the gauntlet of the brave.
And the sword of many a field was there,
 With its Cross for the hour of need,* When the Knight's bold war-cry hath sunk in prayer,
 And the spear is a broken reed!
—Hush! did a breeze through the armour sigh?
 Did the folds of the banner shake?
Not so!—from the tomb's dark mystery
 There seem'd a voice to break!
He had heard that voice bid clarions blow,
 He had caught its last blessing's breath—
'Twas the same! but its awful sweetness now
 Had an under tone of Death!
And it said—"The sword hath conquer'd kings,
 And the spear through realms hath pass'd,
But the Cross alone, of all these things,
 Might avail me at the last!"F. H.
* ↑ * The candidate for knighthood was under the necessity of keeping watch, the night before his inauguration, in a church, and completely armed. This was called the Vigil of Arms.
* ↑ * "The Knight swore by his sword, for its cross-hilt was emblematical of his Saviour's cross. The sword was his only crucifix when mass was said in the pause between the forming of the military array and the laying of lances in their rests. It was moreover his consolation in the hour of death."—See Mills's History of Chivalry.
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/Gertrude

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Pages 469-470
RECORDS OF WOMAN.—NO. VII.
Gertrude.*
The Baron Von der Wart, accused, though it is believed unjustly, as an accomplice in the assassination of the Emperor Albert, was bound alive on the wheel, and attended by his wife Gertrude, throughout his last agonizing moments, with the most heroic fidelity. Her own sufferings, and those of her unfortunate husband, are most affectingly described in a letter which she afterwards addressed to a female friend, and which was published some years ago at Haarlem, in a book entitled "Gertrude Von der Wart, or Fidelity unto death."
Her hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes raised,
 The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gazed,
 All that she loved was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
 The holy heaven above;
Its pale stars watching to behold
 The night of earthly love.
"And bid me not depart," she cried,
 "My Rudolph! say not so! This is no time to quit thy side,
 Peace, peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear
 When death is on thy brow?
The world!—what means it?—mine is here—
 I will not leave thee now!
"I have been with thee in thine hour
 Of glory and of bliss,
Doubt not its memory's living power
 To strengthen me through this!
And thou, mine honour'd love and true,
 Bear on, bear nobly on!
We have the blessed Heaven in view,
 Whose rest shall soon be won."—
And were not these high words to flow
 From Woman's breaking heart?
—Through all that night of bitterest woe
 She bore her lofty part:
But oh! with such a freezing eye,
 With such a curdling cheek—
—Love, love! of mortal agony,
 Thou, only thou, shouldst speak!
The winds rose high—but with them rose
 Her voice, that he might hear;— Perchance that dark hour brought repose
 To happy bosoms near:
While she sat striving with despair
 Beside his tortured form,
And pouring her deep soul in prayer
 Forth on the rushing storm.
She wiped the death-damps from his brow,
 With her pale hands and soft,
Whose touch, upon the lute chords low,
 Had still'd his heart so oft.
She spread her mantle o'er his breast,
 She bathed his lips with dew,
And on his cheek such kisses press'd,
 As Joy and Hope ne'er knew.
Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,
 Enduring to the last!
She had her meed—one smile in Death—
 And his worn spirit pass'd.
While even as o'er a martyr's grave,
 She knelt on that sad spot,
And weeping, bless'd the God who gave
 Strength to forsake it not!F. H.
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/The Birds of Passage

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Page 328
THE BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
Birds, joyous Birds of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of Spring?
—"We come from the shores of the green old Nile,
From the land where the roses of Sharon smile,
From the palms that wave through the Indian sky,
From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.
"We have swept o'er cities, in song renown'd—
Silent they lie, with the deserts round!
We have cross'd proud rivers, whose tide hath roll'd
All dark with the warrior-blood of old;
And each worn wing hath regain'd its home,
Under Peasant's roof-tree, or Monarch's dome."
And what have ye found in the Monarch's dome,
Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam."
—"We have found a change, we have found a pall,
And a gloom o’ershadowing the banquet's hall,
And a mark on the floor, as of life-drops spilt—
—Nought looks the same, save the nest we built!"
Oh, joyous Birds, it hath still been so! Through the halls of Kings doth the tempest go!
But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep,
And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep.
Say, what have ye found in the Peasant's cot,
Since last ye parted from that sweet spot?
"A change we have found there, and many a change!
Faces and footsteps and all things strange! Gone are the heads of the silvery hair,
And the young that were, have a brow of care,
And the place is hush'd where the children play'd—
—Nought looks the same, save the nest we made!"
Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth!
Yet, through the wastes of the trackless air,
Ye have a guide, and shall we despair?
Ye over desert and deep have pass'd—
—So shall we reach our bright home at last!——F. H.
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/The Effigies

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Pages 192-193
THE EFFIGIES.
————"Women act their parts
When they do make their ordered houses know them.
Men must be busy out of doors, must stir
The city;—yea, make the great world aware
That they are in it; for the mastery
Of which they race and wrestle."—Knowles,
Warrior! whose image on thy tomb,
 With shield and crested head,
Sleeps proudly in the purple gloom
 By the stain'd window shed;
The records of thy name and race
 Have faded from the stone,
Yet through a cloud of years I trace
 What thou hast been and done.
A banner from its flashing spear
 Flung out o'er many a fight;
A war-cry ringing far and clear,
 And strong to turn the flight;
An arm that bravely bore the lance
 On for the holy shrine,
A haughty heart and a kingly glance—
 —Chief! were not these things thine?
A lofty place where leaders sate
 Around the council-board;
In festive halls a chair of state,
 When the blood-red wine was pour'd;
A name that drew a prouder tone
 From herald, harp, and bard;—
—Surely these things were all thine own,
 So hadst thou thy reward!
Woman! whose sculptured form at rest
 By the armed knight is laid,
With meek hands folded o'er a breast
 In matron-robes array'd;
What was thy tale?—Oh gentle mate
 Of him, the bold and free,
Bound unto his victorious fate,
 What bard hath sung of thee?
He woo’d a bright and burning star;
 Thine was the void, the gloom,
The straining eye that follow'd far
 His oft receding plume;
The heart-sick listening while his steed
 Sent echoes on the breeze;
The pang—but when did Fame take heed
 Of griefs obscure as these?
Thy silent and secluded hours,
 Through many a lonely day,
While bending o'er thy broider'd flowers,
 With spirit far away;
Thy weeping midnight prayers for him
 Who fought on Syrian plains;
Thy watchings till the torch grew dim,—
 —These fill no minstrel-strains.
A still, sad life was thine!—long years,
 With tasks unguerdon'd fraught,
Deep, quiet Love, submissive tears,
 Vigils of anxious thought;
Prayers at the Cross in fervour pour'd;
 Alms to the Pilgrim given;—
—Oh! happy, happier than thy Lord
 In that lone path to Heaven!F. H.
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/The Invocation

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Page 573
THE INVOCATION.
Answer me, burning Stars of night!
 Where is the Spirit gone,
That, past the reach of human sight,
 Even as a breeze hath flown?
—And the Stars answer'd me—"We roll
 In light and power on high,
But, of the never-dying soul,
 Ask things that cannot die!"
O many-toned and chainless Wind!
 Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
 Far over mount and sea?
—And the Wind murmur'd in reply—
 "The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
 But not what thou hast lost."
Ye Clouds that gorgeously repose
 Around the setting sun,
Answer! have ye a home for those
 Whose earthly race has run?
—The bright Clouds answer'd—"We depart,
 We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart,
 For that which cannot die!"
Speak then, thou Voice of God within,
 Thou of the deep low tone!
Answer me through life's restless din,
 Where is the Spirit flown?
—And the Voice answer'd—"Be thou still!
 Enough to know is given;
Clouds, Winds, and Stars, their task fulfil,
 Thine is to trust in Heaven!"F. H.
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 14 1825/Ulla, or the Adjuration

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 14, Pages 259-260
ULLA, OR THE ADJURATION.
"Thou 'rt gone! thou 'rt slumbering low
 With the sounding seas above thee,
It is but a restless woe,
 But a haunting dream to love thee!
Thrice the glad swan has sung
 To greet the sunny hours,
Since thine oar at parting flung
 The white spray up in showers.
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou 'rt surely of them—come!"
'Twas Ulla's voice!—alone she stood
 In the Iceland summer night,
Far gazing o'er a glassy flood,
 From a dark rock's beetling height.
"I know thou hast thy bed
 Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee.
The storm sweeps o'er thy head,  But the depths are hush'd around thee!
What wind shall point the way
 To the chambers where thou rt lying?
—Come to me thence, and say
 If thou thought'st on me in dying?
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou 'rt surely of them—speak!"
She listen'd—'twas the wind's low moan,
 'Twas the ripple of the wave;
'Twas the wakening osprey's cry alone,
 As it started from its cave.
"I know each fearful spell
 Of the ancient Runic lay,
Whose mutter'd words compel
 The tempests to obey!
But I adjure not thee
 By magic, sign, or song,
My voice shall stir the sea
 By love—the deep, the strong!
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—thou 'rt surely of them—rise!"
Again she gazed with an eager glance,
 Wandering and wildly bright;
—She saw but the sparkling water's dance
 In the arrowy northern light.
"By the slow and struggling death
 Of Hope that loath'd to part,
By the fierce and withering breath
 Of Despair on Youth's high heart,
By the weight of gloom which clings
 To the mantle of the night,
By the heavy dawn which brings
 Nought lovely to the sight,
Come to me from the ocean's dead!—awake, arise, appear!"
Was it her yearning spirit's dream,
 Or did a pale form rise,
And o'er the hush'd wave glide and gleam,
With bright, still, mournful eyes?
"Have the depths heard?—they have!
 My voice prevails—thou 'rt there!
Dim from thy watery grave,
 Oh! thou that wert so fair!
Yet take me to thy rest!
 There dwells no fear with love,
Let me slumber on thy breast,
 While the billow rolls above!
We will sleep among the ocean's dead!—stay for me—stay! I come!"
There was a sullen plunge below,
 A flashing on the main,
And the wave shut o'er that wild heart's woe,
 Shut—and grew still again!
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826

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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Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826
Compiled By Peter J. Bolton
Contents
| | Page |
| Records of Woman V. The Switzer's Wife | 23-25 |
| The Effigies | 192-193 |
| Chivalric Sketches I. The Vigil of Arms | 279-280 |
| The Birds of Passage | 328 |
| Records of Woman VI. The American Forest Girl | 407-408 |
| Records of Woman VII. Gertrude | 469-470 |
| The Sunbeam | 518 |
| The Invocation | 573 |
# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 16 1826/The Sunbeam

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 16, Page 518
THE SUNBEAM.
Thou art no lingerer in monarchs' hall;
A joy thou art, and a wealth to all—
A bearer of hope unto land and sea;
Sunbeam what gift has the world like thee?
Thou art walking the billows, and Ocean smiles—
Thou hast touch'd with glory his thousand isles!
Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam,
And gladden'd the sailor, like words from home.
To the solemn depths of the forest shades,
Thou art streaming on through their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow,
Like fire-flies glance to the pools below.
I look'd on the mountains—a vapour lay,
Folding their heights in its dark array;
Thou brokest forth—and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.
I look'd on the peasant's lowly cot—
Something of sadness had wrapt the spot;
But a gleam of thee on its casement ſell,
And it laugh'd into beauty at that bright spell.
To the earth's wild places a guest thou art,
Flushing the waste like the rose's heart;
And thou scornest not, from thy pomp, to shed
A tender light on the ruin's head.
Thou tak'st through the dim church-aisle thy way,
And its pillars from twilight flash forth to day,
And its high, pale tombs, with their trophies old,
Are bathed in a flood as of burning gold.
And thou turnest not from the humblest grave,
Where a flower to the sighing winds may wave;
Thou scatter'st its gloom like the dreams of rest,
Thou sleepest in love on its grassy breast.
Sunbeam of summer! oh! what is like thee?
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea!
—One thing is like thee, to mortals given,
The Faith, touching all things with hues of Heaven. F. H.