OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/Casabianca

This version has the corruption 'And but' for 'And"—but' in verse 5
Casabianca.
"Casabianca," by Felicia Hemans (1793-1835), is the portrait of a faithful heart, an example of unreasoning obedience. It is right that a child should obey even to the death the commands of a loving parent.
The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.
The flames rolled on—he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud, "Say, father, say If yet my task is done?" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son.
"Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair; And looked from that lone post of death, In still, yet brave despair.
​And shouted but once more aloud "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky.
Then came a burst of thunder sound— The boy—oh! where was he? —Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strew the sea;
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part— But the noblest thing that perished there Was that young, faithful heart.
Felicia Hemans.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/Annie Laurie

Annie Laurie.
"Annie Laurie" finds a place in this collection because it is the most popular song on earth. Written by William Douglas (————).
Maxwelton braes are bonnie Where early fa's the dew, And it's there that Annie Laurie Gie'd me her promise true— Gie'd me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee.
Her brow is like the snawdrift, Her throat is like the swan, Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on— That e'er the sun shone on; And dark blue is her e'e; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee.
Like dew on the gowan lying Is the fa' o' her fairy feet; Like the winds in summer sighing, Her voice is low and sweet— Her voice is low and sweet; And she's a' the world to me; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee.
William Douglas.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/An Incident of the French Camp

An Incident of the French Camp.
"An Incident of the French Camp," by Robert Browning (1812-89), is included in this volume out of regard to a boy of eight years who did not care for many poems, but this one stirred his heart to its depths.
You know, we French storm'd Ratisbon: A mile or so away On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms lock'd behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.
Just as perhaps he mus'd "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, Let once my army leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall,"— Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reach'd the mound.
Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect— (So tight he kept his lips compress'd, Scarce any blood came through) You look'd twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two.
​"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon! The Marshal's in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire.
The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes; "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead.
Robert Browning.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/Bannockburn

Bannockburn.
ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.
You can look down on the battle-field of Bannockburn from Stirling Castle, Scotland, near which stands a magnificent statue of Robert, the Bruce. How often have I trodden over the old battle-field. The monument of William Wallace, too, looms up on the Ochil Hills, not far away. (1759-96.)
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie.
Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lower; See approach proud Edward's power— Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'? Let him follow me!
By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us do, or die!
Robert Burns.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/Contentment

This collection attributes this poem to Edward Dyer; most sources attribute it to Edward de Vere.
Contentment.
"Contentment," by Edward Dyer (1545-1607). This poem holds much to comfort and control people who are shut up to the joys of meditation—people to whom the world of activity is closed. To be independent of things material—this is the soul's pleasure.
My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find As far excels all earthly bliss That God or Nature hath assigned; Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
Content I live; this is my stay,— I seek no more than may suffice. ​I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring.
I laugh not at another's loss, I grudge not at another's gain; No worldly wave my mind can toss; I brook that is another's bane. I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend; I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.
My wealth is health and perfect ease; My conscience clear my chief defense; I never seek by bribes to please Nor by desert to give offense. Thus do I live, thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!
Edward Dyer.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1828

Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1828 compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Banner of Five Byzants
* Venus taking the Bow from a Sleeping Cupid
* The First Ball
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1836

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
This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1836
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Boon
* The Festival
* The Black Seal
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1836/The Festival

* THE FESTIVAL
* Drawn by W. PurserEngraved by E. Finden
THE FESTIVAL.
BY L. E. L.
It is a festal meeting,
 For flask and fruit are there;
The wind, in its retreating,
 Brings music through the air.
It is an hour for gladness,
 So golden is the day,
If there are signs of sadness.
 Their gloom is done away.
Tho' the past has many a token
 That destruction has been here;
Tho' the column lieth broken,
 And the ruined shrine be near;
The acanthus twines above them,
 The wild flowers know their place;
And we only feel we love them
 For their beauty and their grace.
We think not of their splendour,—
 They are lovelier in decline;
And a dream, the fair and tender,
 Floats o'er the fallen shrine.
If haunted by the beauty
 Of Oreades long past by,
We turn with sweeter duty
 To the soft eyes shining nigh.
Now God be praised that flowers
 In the summer days have birth;
And for the lovely hours
 He sendeth to the earth.
That ilex, whose dark sweeping
 Flings down so sweet a shade,
Seems as if for its sole keeping
 A fairy world were made.
Amid the wild flowers lying
 There is a graceful band;
The green leaves round them sighing,
 And the lute is in their hand.
They are singing sweetest singing,
 It riseth on the air;
Its way to heaven winging
 As if its home were there.
Such hours are more than pleasure;
 When the song itself is o'er,
It lingers like a treasure
 In the heart it cheered before;
And still its memory cheereth,
 And keepeth its sweet hold,
When the weary world appeareth
 Too absolute and cold.
Two apart are standing lonely,
 Watching each other's eyes,
As if the world held only
 The space that in them lies.
You can see her graceful stooping,
 As if she feared to speak;
You can see the long lash drooping
 Upon her rose-red cheek.
The heaven now shining over,
 Has entered in each heart:
That maiden and her lover!
 How little earth has part
In the young and earnest feeling
 Which, like a star, hath shone,
'Mid the spirit's depths revealing
 A world as yet unknown.
This hour will pass—all passes,
 On this life's fleeting scene;
But still the future glasses
 All that the past has been.
This hour will pass, not perish,
 From the heart which now it stirs;
For memory will cherish
 The sweetest which was hers.
When silence has been broken
 By a joy hope could not reach,
And words of love have spoken
 Their first and softest speech.
Forgotten!—never—never—
 They will soothe all after pain,
And life's loveliest things will ever
 Bring back that hour again.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1837/The Bridal Day

* THE BRIDAL MORN
* Painted by J. J. JenkinsEngraved by Henry Rolls
THE BRIDAL DAY.
BY L. E. L.
She leans beside her mirror, in her old accustomed place,
Yet something unfamiliar is on her lovely face:
She wears a wreath, a snow-white wreath, which yet she never wore;
It gives a paleness to the cheek, unknown to it before.
The maiden goeth to the grove, and, of the flowers beneath,
She takes the lily or the rose, to bind her midnight wreath;
But of one plant she gathers not, though fair its blossoms be;
Only the bride hath leave to wear buds from the orange tree.
Once, only once, that wreath is worn,—once only may she wear
The pale white wreath of orange-flowers within her shining hair;
They wear, upon their soft wan bloom, the shade of coming years;
The spiritual presence is around of human hopes and fears.
Ay, let her soft and thoughtful eyes, upon her mirror dwell,
For, in that long and tender look, she taketh her farewell
Of all her youth's unconsciousness, of all her lighter cares,
And for a deeper, sadder life—a woman's lot, prepares.
She leaves her old familiar place, the hearts that were her own;
The love to which she trusts herself is yet a thing unknown:
Though at one name her cheek turn red, though sweet it be to hear,
Yet for that name she must resign so much that has been dear.
It is an anxious happiness,—it is a fearful thing,
When first the maiden's small white hand puts on the golden ring;
She passeth from her father's house unto another's care;
And who may say what troubled hours, what sorrows wait her there?
Ah! love and life are mysteries, both blessing and both blest;
And yet, how much they teach the heart of trial and unrest!
Sweet maiden, while these troubled thoughts 'mid bridal fancies sweep,
Well mayst thou pensive watch thy glass, and turn aside to weep!
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1836/The Boon

THE BOON.
BY L. E. L.
Come tell me, love, if I had power
As I have will to waste on thee,—
 Not waste—for never fairy's dower
Could seem too precious thine to be:
 If I had power to give thee all
The earth, the ocean, or the air
 E'er girdled in their mighty thrall,
What wouldst thou, Maiden, for thy share?
 What wilt thou have? Shall time restore
The wonders of those fallen walls,
 Palmyra's giant domes of yore?
Wilt dwell a queen in marble halls?
 Must shining columns rear thy dome
To rival midnight's starry sky?
 The quarry yields too mean a home,—
The golden mine shall thine supply.
 Kings shall lay down their diadems
To glitter on thy meanest slave;
 Thy lightest step shall be on gems,
Or pearls yet dewy from the wave.
Old Egypt's valleys of the rose
Shall feed thy lamps with fragrant oil;
 Thy ivory caskets shall enclose
The sweet Manilla's fragrant spoil.
 The East shall send its spice and gold,
The West, its labour and its skill,
 To raise for thee a fairy hold,
To win thy smile, and work thy will.
 There never shall the winter lower,
But summer soften into spring;
 There shall no branch mourn faded flower,
There shall no bird forget to sing.
 Thou dost love flowers—the glorious dyes
That paint the eastern world shall dwell
 By those that catch our April skies,—
The violet thou lovest so well.
 Down dropped the wreath she bound the while,
When ceased the voice on which she hung;
 She gave him one sweet serious smile,
And spoke as if a lute were strung.
 "Ah!" said the maid, "an easy task,
From the wide world to choose my part;
 What of thine empire could I ask,
But what is now mine own—thy heart?"
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1836/The Black Seal

* THE BLACK SEAL
* Painted by J. WoodEngraved by F. Bacon
THE BLACK SEAL.
BY L. E. L.
Far, far across the sunny sea,
 The gallant vessel goes;
Her white wings like a sea-bird's spread
 That hovers o'er its foes.
Her decks are armed, the battle flag
 Floats red around the mast;
And other ships have lowered theirs
 Where'er that flag has past.
Her course has been amid those isles,
 Those western isles which first,
Like some sweet dream of Paradise,
 Upon the Spaniard burst.
With scarlet flowers that light their hills
 And valleys that are bright,
With golden creepers—and with birds,
 That sparkle in their flight.
Yet danger haunts those lovely isles,
 The fever and the foe—
The brighter that the sun-beams fall,
 The deeper shade they throw.
But that fair ship has 'scaped them all,
 The battle and the wreck;
The fever has not touched a man
 Upon her crowded deck.
Now home to England, home again,
 Across the waves they go—
With triumph in her swelling sails,
 And treasure down below.
Ah! many a hearth is happy now,
 And those who feared before,
Now the good ship is homeward bound,
 Believe in hope once more.
Two orphans—lovely sisters they—
 Had worn the winter through;
The elder, for the younger's sake,
 Watched the wild waters blue.
But now they looked, with eager eyes,
 Towards the setting sun;
Rejoicing, as the evening came,
 Another day was done.
For they began to count the hours,
 When, from the salt sea foam,
Back, to his long betrothed bride,
 Their sailor would come home.
But human hope is vanity,
 And human trust is vain;
Oh pity for them!—could their eyes
 Have looked across the main,
They would have seen a youthful step
 Grow weaker day by day;
They would have seen the hues of health
 Waste gradual away.
One only, of the hardy crew,
 That stately vessel bore,
Was doomed to see his native land
 And his true love no more.
One mournful eve—a sullen plunge
 Was heard below the wave—
The cannon pealed, the wild wind swept
 O'er the young sailor's grave.
Days passed, they knew not of his death—
 They looked for his return—
No more for him their porch shall bloom,
 No more their hearth shall burn.
A letter comes, 'tis sealed with black,
 What doth such letter here?
She takes it—scarce her trembling hand
 Can break that seal—for fear.
She drops the scroll—her sister's arm
 Supports the sinking head;
What of the loved one far away?
 It tells her—he is dead.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1837

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
This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1837
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
* Parting Words
* The Bridal Day
* The Secret Discovered
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1837/Parting Words

PARTING WORDS.
BY L. E. L.
May morning light fall o'er thee,
 When I am far away;
Let Hope's sweet words restore thee
 All we have dreamed to-day.
I would not have thee keep me
 In mind by tears alone;
I would not have thee weep me,
 Love mine,—when I am gone.
No;—as the brook is flowing,
 With sunshine at its side,
While fair wild flowers are growing,
 Leant lovely o'er the tide;
So linked with many a treasure
 Of nature and of spring,
With all that gives thee pleasure,
 My heart to thine shall cling.
The rose shall be enchanted
 To breathe of love to thee;
All fair things shall be haunted
 With vows of faith from me.
The west wind shall secure thee
 My tidings from the main;
But, most of all, assure thee
 How soon we meet again.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1827

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
This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Friendship’s Offering, 1827 compiled as far as possible from contemporary sources by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Spirit and The Angel of Death
* Song—I wrote my name upon the sand
* The Lyrist
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Self-Reproach

CHAPTER XVI.
LADY MARCHMONT'S JOURNAL.
Deep in the heart is an avenging power,
Conscious of right and wrong. There is no shape
Reproach can take, one half so terrible
As when that shape is given by ourselves.
Justice hath needful punishments, and crime
Is a predestined thing to punishment.
Or soon, or late, there will be no escape
From the stern consequence of its own act.
But in ourself is Fate's worst minister:
There is no wretchedness like self-reproach.
Blanchard’s title is:
SELF-REPROACH
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/The Charm Gone

CHAPTER II.
RANELAGH.
I did not wish to see his face,
 I knew it could not be;
Though not a look had altered there,
 What once it was to me.
Since last we met, a fairy spell
 Had been from each removed;
How strange it is that those can change
 Who were so much beloved!
It is a bitter thing to know
 The heart's enchantment o'er;
But 'tis more bitter still to feel
 It can be charmed no more!
Blanchard’s title is:
THE CHARM GONE
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/The Farewell

CHAPTER XL.
THE END.
Farewell!
Shadows and scenes that have, for many hours,
Been my companions; I part from ye like friends—
Dear and familiar ones—with deep sad thoughts,
And hopes, almost misgivings!
Blanchard’s title is:
THE FAREWELL
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Sorrows and Pleasures

CHAPTER XXXIV.
POVERTY.
It is an awful thing how we forget
The sacred ties that bind us each to each.
Our pleasures might admonish us, and say,
Tremble at that delight which is unshared;
Its selfishness must be its punishment.
All have their sorrows, and how strange it seems
They do not soften more the general heart:
Sorrows should be those universal links
That draw all life together.
Blanchard’s title is:
SORROWS AND PLEASURES
In The New York Mirror (10th March 1838), as Selfishness
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Peace Wrought by Pain

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
MEETING.
Over that pallid face were wrought
The characters of painful thought;
But on that lip, and in that eye,
Were patience, faith, and piety.
The hope that is not of this earth,
The peace that has in pain its birth;
As if, in the tumult of this life,
Its sorrow, vanity, and strife,
Had been but as the lightning's shock,
Shedding rich ore upon the rock:
Though in the trial scorched and riven,
The gold it wins, is gold from heaven.
Blanchard’s title is:
PEACE WROUGHT BY PAIN
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Pleasure Becomes Pain

CHAPTER XIV.
THE AUTHOR AND THE ACTRESS.
I cannot count the changes of my heart,
 So often has it turned away from things
Once idols of its being. They depart—
 Hopes, fancies, joys, illusions, as if wings
Sprang suddenly from all old ties, to start;
 Or, if they linger longer, life but brings
Weariness, hollowness, canker, soil, and stain,
Till the heart saith of pleasure, it is pain.
Blanchard’s title is:
PLEASURE BECOMES PAIN
From Moralising in The London Literary Gazette, 1st July 1826
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Stern Truth

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MASKED BALL.
Life is made up of vanities—so small,
So mean, the common history of the day,—
That mockery seems the sole philosophy.
Then some stern truth starts up—cold, sudden, strange;
And we are taught what life is by despair:—
The toys, the trifles, and the petty cares,
Melt into nothingness—we know their worth;
The heart avenges every careless thought,
And makes us feel that fate is terrible.
Blanchard’s title is:
STERN TRUTH
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/The Early Dream

CHAPTER XIX.
RETURN TO COURTENAYE HALL.
Ah! never another dream can be
 Like that early dream of ours,
When Hope, like a child, lay down to sleep
 Amid the folded flowers.
But Hope has wakened since, and wept
 Itself, like a rainbow, away;
And the flowers have faded, and fallen around,
 We have none for a wreath to-day.
Now, Truth has taken the place of Hope,
 And our hearts are like winter hours;
Little has after life been worth
 That early dream of ours.
Blanchard’s title is:
THE EARLY DREAM
Adapted from ‘Song’ in The Venetian Bracelet.
Musical setting: music by M. S., published 1st January 1840
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Poetry

POETRY
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE LETTERS.
It is a weary and a bitter hour
When first the real disturbs the poet's world,
And he distrusts the future. Not for that
Should cold despondency weigh down the soul: It is a glorious gift, bright poetry,
And should be thankfully and nobly used.
Let it look up to heaven!
This poem is on the title page of Blanchard’s
Life and Literary Remains in both Volumes I and II.
# Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Remorse

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE LETTERS RESTORED.
Alas! he brings me back my early years,
And seems to tell me what I should have been.
How have I wasted God's best gifts, and turned
Their use against myself! It is too late!
Remorse and shame are crushing me to earth,
And I am desperate with my misery!
Blanchard’s title is:
REMORSE