OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Seven Lamps of Architecture/Note

NOTE
In the third and following editions the Author named (in the margins of the pages) certain passages of his text Aphorisms, printing them in clarendon type and numbering them consecutively from 1 to 33. These passages are indicated below:
| Aphorism | 1, | p. 2, line 1 (while) to end of §. |
| Aphorism„ | 2, | p. 4, line 30 (It) to p. 5, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 3, | p. 6, line 31 (The) to p. 7, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 4, | p. 8, first § (four lines). |
| Aphorism„ | 5, | p. 18, last line (I speak) to p. 19, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 6, | p. 22, line 19 (We are) to line 35 (intellect). |
| Aphorism„ | 7, | p. 32, line 11 (We are) to end of second §. |
| Aphorism„ | 8, | p. 33, line 27 (To speak) to p. 34, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 9, | p. 34, line 33 (For it) to p. 35, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 10, | p. 43, line 11 (This rule) to p. 44, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 11, | p. 45, line 28 (the highest) to p. 46, end of §. |
| Aphorism„ | 12, | p. 47, line 27 (so great) to p. 48, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 13, | p. 52, last line (It is) to p. 53, last line but one (substance). |
| Aphorism„ | 14, | p. 54, line 20 (The true) to p. 55, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 15, | p. 58, line 17 (But I) to p. 59, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 16, | p. 63, last line but three (The reader) to p.65, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 17, | p. 72, line 32 (Now) to p. 73, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 18, | p. 90, line 33 (The rolling) to p. 91, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 19, | p. 108, line 10 (Now) to line 16 (ugly). |
| Aphorism„ | 20, | p. 109, line 17 (But) to line 33 (man). |
| Aphorism„ | 21, | p. 137, line 26 (Leaves) to line 25 (treatment). |
| Aphorism„ | 22, | p. 140, line 25 (Under) to p. 142, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 23, | p. 154, line 12 (that things) to p. 155, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 24, | p. 160, line 27 (It has) to p. 161, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 25, | p. 177, line 13 (I said) to p. 178, line 14 (handling). |
| Aphorism„ | 26, | p. 182, line 21 (We have) to p. 183, end of §. |
| Aphorism„ | 27, | p. 187, line 1 (And if) to end of §. |
| Aphorism„ | 28, | p. 188, line 6 (I say) to p. 189, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 29, | p. 194, line 12 (The idea) to p. 195, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 30, | p. 195, line 20 (For, indeed) to p. 196, end of first §. |
| Aphorism„ | 31, | p. 203, line 30 (Neither) to p. 205, line 10 (Milan). |
| Aphorism„ | 32, | p. 208, line 13 (Nor) to end of §. |
| Aphorism„ | 33, | p. 218, line 27 (It is) to p. 219, line 31 (further). |
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/To the Baron von Hoffman

TO THE BARON VON HOFFMAN, Morrison’s Hotel, Dublin, June 20, 1823.
arewell, farewell to thee, Baron von Hoffman, Thus warbled a creditor over his wine, Of unmeaning faces I’ve gazed on enough, man, But never on one half as stupid as thine.
Oh, gay as the negro who trotted behind thee, How light was thy heart till thy money was gone! But when all was gone, ’twas the devil to find thee; The nest still remained, but the eagle was flown.
Yet long upon Harlem’s gray rocks and green highlands Shall Burnham and Cato remember the name Of him who away in the far British Islands Now lights his cigar at the blaze of his fame.
And still when the bell at the Coffee-House ringing Assembles, of brokers, the young and the old, The happiest there to his memory bringing Thy frolics, shall swear when thy story is told.
And Jacob, the tailor, as fondly he lingers O’er the leaves of his ledger by night and by day, Will count the sums due him from thee on his fingers, And mournfully turn from their figures away.
Nor shall Carlo, beloved of thy bosom, forget thee, In his merriest hour at thy name he will start; By the side of his chaise and his horses he’ll set thee, Embalmed in the innermost shrine of his heart.
Farewell, farewell, while the spirit of evil Has power in a creditor’s bosom, we swear To be with thee on earth—if thou goest to the devil, He is an old friend of ours, and will visit thee there.
Farewell, be it ours to embitter thy pillow With thistles whose wounds are eternal and deep, There are packets of letters afloat on the billow That shall poison thy whiskey and torture thy sleep.
Around thee shall hover the constable gentry, Those bloodhounds of law, ever thirsty and true— Worse foes than the Frenchmen who saw you a sentry In a platoon of Dutchmen at red Waterloo.
We’ll dine where the bailiffs in Bow Street are drinking, And bribe all their clubs to be aimed at thy head; And when of thy snug German home thou art thinking, Take out a ca. sa. and take thee out of bed.
H.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Translation from the French of Victor Hugo

TRANSLATION FROM THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO.
e Poëte, inspiré lorsque la terre ignore, Ressemble á les grands monts que la nouvelle aurore Dore avant tous á son réveil, Et qui, longtemps vainqueur de l’ombre, Gardent jusque dans la nuit sombre Le dernier rayon du soleil.
Moorland and meadow slumber In deepest darkness now, But the sunrise hues of the wakened day Smile on the mountain’s brow.
And when eve’s mists are shrouding Moorland and meadow fast, That mountain greets day’s sunset light, Her loveliest and her last.
And thus the God-taught minstrel, Above a land untaught, Smiles lonely in the smiles of heaven From his hill-tops of thought.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/To an Elderly Coquette

TO AND ELDERLY COQUETTE.
“Parcius junctas quatiunt fenestras.”
Horace, Book I., Ode 25.
h, Chloe! no more at each party and ball You shine the gay queen of the hour, The lip, that alluringly smiled upon all, Finds none to acknowledge its power; No longer the hearts of the dandies you break, No poet adores you in numbers; No billets-doux sweeten, nor serenades wake The peaceful repose of your slumbers.
Dissipation has clouded those eloquent eyes, That sparkled like gems of the ocean; Thy bosom is fair—but its billowy rise Awakens no kindred commotion: And pale are those rubies of rapture, where Love Had showered his sweetest of blisses; And the wrinkles which Time has implanted above, Are covered in vain with false tresses.
The autumn is on thee—fell Scandal prepares To hasten the wane of thy glory;
Too soon Disappointment will hand thee down-stairs, And old maidenhood end the sad story: For me—long escaped from your trammels—I choose To enlist in the new corps of jokers; Abandoning Chloe, I kneel to the Muse, And, instead of love-ditties, write Croakers.
D.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Translation

TRANSLATION.
FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.
gain ye come, again ye throng around me. Dim, shadowy beings of my boyhood’s dream! Still shall I bless, as then, your spell that bound me? Still bend to mists and vapors as ye seem? Nearer ye come: I yield me as ye found me In youth your worshipper; and as the stream Of air that folds you in its magic wreaths, Flows by my lips, youth’s joy my bosom breathes.
Lost forms and loved ones ye are with you bringing, And dearest images of happier days, First-love and friendship in your path upspringing, Like old tradition’s half-remembered lays, And long-slept sorrows waked, whose dirge-like singing Recalls my life’s strange labyrinthine maze, And names the heart-mourned many a stern doom, Ere their year’s summer, summoned to the tomb.
They hear not these my last songs, they whose greeting Gladdened my first; my spring-time friends have gone,
And gone, fast journeying from that place of meeting, The echoes of their welcome, one by one. Though stranger crowds, my listeners since, are beating Time to my music, their applauding tone More grieves than glads me, while the tried and true, If yet on earth, are wandering far and few.
A longing long unfelt, a deep-drawn sighing For the far Spirit-World o’erpowers me now; My song’s faint voice sinks fainter, like the dying Tones of the wind-harp swinging from the bough, And my changed heart throbs warm, no more denying Tears to my eyes or sadness to my brow; The near afar off seems, the distant nigh, The now a dream, the past reality.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Translation from the German

TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN.
here’s one who long will think of thee, Though thou art cold in death’s last sleep; There’s one will love thy memory Till his own grave the night-dews steep. And if no outward tears he weep, And none his silent sorrows know, Still doth his heart its vigils keep Beside the spot where thou art low.
Sad was thy mortal pilgrimage, And bitter tears thine eyes have shed; But now the storm hath spent its rage; The turf is green above thy head, And, loveliest of the buried dead, Sweet may thy dreamless slumbers be; Thy grave the summer’s bridal bed, Her evening winds thy minstrelsy.
As withered on thy cheek the rose, I cursed the hour when love betrayed thee; ’Twas mine, in death, thine eyes to close, And watch till on the bier they laid thee.
No gloomy cypress-boughs shall shade thee, No marble thy sad story tell; The cruel world shall ne’er upbraid thee With having loved—and loved too well.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Woman

WOMAN.
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF AN UNKNOWN LADY.
ady, although we have not met, And may not meet, beneath the sky; And whether thine are eyes of jet, Gray, or dark blue, or violet, Or hazel—Heaven knows, not I;
Whether around thy cheek of rose A maiden’s glowing locks are curled, And to some thousand kneeling beaux Thy frown is cold as winter’s snows, Thy smile is worth a world;
Or whether, past youth’s joyous strife, The calm of thought is on thy brow, And thou art in thy noon of life, Loving and loved, a happy wife, And happier mother now—
I know not: but, whate’er thou art, Whoe’er thou art, were mine the spell, To call Fate’s joys or blunt his dart, There should not be one hand or heart But served or wished thee well.
For thou art woman—with that word Life’s dearest hopes and memories come, Truth, Beauty, Love—in her adored, And earth’s lost Paradise restored In the green bower of home.
What is man’s love? His vows are broke, Even while his parting kiss is warm; But woman’s love all change will mock, And, like the ivy round the oak, Cling closest in the storm.
And well the Poet at her shrine May bend, and worship while he woos; To him she is a thing divine, The inspiration of his line, His Sweetheart and his Muse.
If to his song the echo rings Of Fame—’tis woman’s voice he hears; If ever from his lyre’s proud strings Flow sounds like rush of angel-wings, ’Tis that she listens while he sings, With blended smiles and tears:
Smiles—tears—whose blessed and blessing power, Like sun and dew o’er summer’s tree, Alone keeps green through Time’s long hour, That frailer thing than leaf or flower, A poet’s immortality.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/To the Directors of the Academy of Arts

TO THE DIRECTORS OF THE ACADEMY OF ARTS.
llustrious autocrats of taste! Inspectors of the wonders traced By pencil, brush, or chisel! Accept a nameless poet’s lay, Who longs to twine a sprig of bay Around his penny whistle.
Ye learned and enlightened few Who keep the portal of virtu, I pray you now unlock it, And grant a peep, for all my pains, Within your oil-bedaubed domains, The Dome where now the poor in brains Succeed the poor in pocket.
All honored be the rich repast At which the sage decree was past Of pauper health so tender, Which sent the beggars to Bellevue, And left the classic fame to you And Scudder’s Witch of Endor.
Obliging all, you fear no harm From Disappointment’s angry arm, No cudgels, sneers, or libels; Alike you smile on worst and best, From great Rubens and Quaker West, To wooden cuts for Bibles.
Lo! next the Gallic thunderbolt, Some nameless, shapeless, ugly dolt, His plastic phiz advances; And vestal footsteps lightly tread, And Cupids sport around the head Of gentle Doctor Francis.
While placed on high exalted pegs, Apollo blushes for his legs, And mourns his severed fingers; Some amorous wight, with passion drunk, O’er Cytherea’s headless trunk Luxuriously lingers.
Here Danaë rolls her humid eyes To meet the ruler of the skies In tricks that please old Satan; And there our eyes delighted trace The scarlet coat and lily face Of gallant Captain Creighton.
Here West’s creative pencil shines, And paints, in tear-compelling lines, Polony’s frenzied daughter; A hang-dog king, and sheepish queen, And her, who looks as if she’d been Just fished up from the water!
Thy glories, too, are blazoned there, King Ben’s first-born immortal heir— Apparent to the pallet; Orlando weighs his cons and pros, Forgetting quite his heedless toes Are in the Phoca’s gullet.
D.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/To the Surgeon-General of the State of New York

TO THE SURGEON-GENERAL OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK.
“Why, Tom! he knows all things. An it be not the devil himself, we may thank God.”Village Wizard.
h! Mitchill, lord of granite flints, Doctus in law—and wholesome dishes; Protector of the patent splints, The foe of whales—the friend of fishes, “Tom Codus,”—“Septon” “Phlogobombas!” What title shall we find to fit you? Inquisitor of sprats and compost, Or Surgeon-General of militia!
We hail thee—mammoth of the State! Steam frigate on the waves of physic! Equal in practice or debate, To cure the nation or the phthisic; The amateur of Tartar dogs, Wheat-flies, and maggots that create ’em! Of mummies, and of mummy chogs! Of brickbats, lotteries, and pomatum!
It matters not how low or high it is, Thou knowest each hill and vale of knowledge; Fellow of forty-nine societies, And lecturer in Hosack’s College. And when thou diest, for life is brief, Thy name, in all its gathered glory, Shall shine, immortal, as the leaf Of Delaplaine’s Repository!
D.
# The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Twilight

TWILIGHT.
here is an evening twilight of the heart, When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest, And the eye sees life’s fairy scenes depart, As fades the daybeam in the rosy west. ’Tis with a nameless feeling of regret We gaze upon them as they melt away, And fondly would we bid them linger yet, But Hope is round us with her angel lay, Hailing afar some happier moonlight hour; Dear are her whispers still, though lost their early power.
In youth her cheek was crimsoned with her glow; Her smile was loveliest then; her matin song Was heaven’s own music, and the note of woe Was all unheard her sunny bowers among. Life’s little word of bliss was newly born; We knew not, cared not, it was born to die, Flushed with the cool breeze and the dews of morn, With dancing heart we gazed on the pure sky, And mocked the passing clouds that dimmed its blue, Like our own sorrows then—as fleeting and as few.
And manhood felt her sway too—on the eye, Half realized, her early dreams burst bright, Her promised bower of happiness seemed nigh, Its days of joy, its vigils of delight; And though at times might lower the thunder-storm, And the red lightnings threaten, still the air Was balmy with her breath and her loved form, The rainbow of the heart was hovering there. ’Tis in life’s noontide she is nearest seen, Her wreath the summer flower, her robe of summer green.
But though less dazzling in her twilight dress, There’s more of heaven’s pure beam about her now; That angel-smile of tranquil loveliness, Which the heart worships, glowing on her brow; That smile shall brighten the dim evening star That points our destined tomb, nor e’er depart Till the faint light of life is fled afar, And hushed the last deep beating of the heart: The meteor-bearer of our parting breath, A moonbeam in the midnight cloud of death.
# The Snow Driver

Lapland—the “Fox” and a forged map.
The Snow Driver
A Complete Novel by Harold Lamb Author of “The Sword of Honor,” “Forward,” etc.
* I.—The Man-at-Arms
* II.—The Signior D'Alaber
* III.—A Hawk is Slain
* IV.—The Mad Cosmographer
* V.—Cathay
* VI.—Master Cabot Speaks
* VII.—The Turn of the Tide
* VIII.—Peter Discourses
* IX.—The Rendezvous
* X.—Peter Interprets an Omen
* XI.—The Sea Maiden
* XII.—Snow
* XIII.—The Gate in the Sky
* XIV.—Thorne Meets Sir Hugh
* XV.—Darkness
* XVI.—The White Bear
* XVII.—The Inland Sea
“The Snow Driver,” copyright, 1925, by Harold Lamb.
Copyright, 1925, by The Ridgway Company in the United States and (treat Britain. All rights reserved.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1962, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 61 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Snow-Storm (Emerson)

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky
* The Snow-Storm in Poems (1847)
* The Snow-Storm in Poems (Household Edition, 1904)
# The Snow-Blossoms

1912.
But yestereve the winter trees Reared leafless, blackly bare, Their twigs and branches poignant-marked Upon the sunset-flare.
White-petaled, opens now the dawn, And in its pallid glow, Revealed, each leaf-lorn, barren tree Stands white with flowers of snow.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1961, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 62 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Snow-Drop

* "The Snow-Drop", in The Greenock Railway (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Paisley
* "The snow-drop", in The Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# The Snake and Jupiter

* related authors: Aesop.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Perry index 198
* "A Snake to Jupiter", part of "Fable CCLXXXIV and CCLXXXV", translated by Roger L'Estrange, in Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists (1692)
* "The Snake and Jupiter", translated by Vernon Stanley Jones, in Æsop's fables: A New Translation (1912)
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Song of Cartha

Queen, whose perilous bosom bare Was the field of love’s emprise, I would hush my weary sighs In the silence of thy hair.
In my heart thy kisses wrought Raptures of the fabled faun; Seal my lids before the dawn With thy lips, and lift them not.
Queen, whose breasts were mine to keep Through the moon-abandoned night, Languid love and dead delight In thine arms are fain to sleep.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1961, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 62 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Song of Aviol

Past the flown horizon’s wall And the fight of any wind– Where the sunken sunsets fall, Lies the land that Love would find.
There, among the magic palms, They that flee the mists of sorrow Watch their woe on wingèd balms Borne and lost ere any morrow.
There, in vales of deathless lote, Love is made the Dream Eternal– One with all the myrrhs that float ’Neath the halted sun hesternal.
Land that kings may not discover, Deep within the mystic west! Only lover comes with lover Through the fens where dragons nest.
They that seek it, summer-hearted, Must outwing the winter swallow– Fu too far in realms uncharted For the jealous gods to follow.
Past the flown horizon’s wall And the flight of any wind– Where the sunken sunsets fall, Lies the land that Love would find.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1961, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 62 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Song of Hiawatha

* related portals: American literature.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons gallery, Commons category, Wikidata item.
an 1855 epic poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow based on the legends of the Ojibwe people
Layout 2
THE
SONG OF HIAWATHA.
BY
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS. M DCCC LV.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
CAMBRIDGE:
METCALF AND COMPANY, STEREOTYPERS AND PRINTERS.
CONTENTS.
| | | PAGE |
| Introduction | Introduction | 3 |
| I. | The Peace-Pipe | 11 |
| II. | The Four Winds | 20 |
| III. | Hiawatha's Childhood | 36 |
| IV. | Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis | 49 |
| V. | Hiawatha's Fasting | 65 |
| VI. | Hiawatha's Friends | 80 |
| VII. | Hiawatha's Sailing | 90 |
| VIII. | Hiawatha's Fishing | 98 |
| IX. | Hiawatha and the Pearl-Feather | 111 |
| X. | Hiawatha's Wooing | 127 |
| XI. | Hiawatha's Wedding-Feast | 142 |
| XII. | The Son of the Evening Star | 155 |
| XIII. | Blessing the Corn-Fields | 175 |
| XIV. | Picture-Writing | 188 ​ |
| XV. | Hiawatha's Lamentation | 198 |
| XVI. | Pau-Puk-Keewis | 210 |
| XVII. | The Hunting of Pau-Puk Keewis | 224 |
| XVIII. | The Death of Kwasind | 243 |
| XIX. | The Ghosts | 250 |
| XX. | The Famine | 262 |
| XXI. | The White Man's Foot | 272 |
| XXII. | Hiawatha's Departure | 284 |
| Notes | | 297 |
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