OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Other Side of the Mountain: Mujahideen Tactics in the Soviet-Afghan War/Foreword
## FOREWORD

When the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979, few expertsbelieved that the fledgling Mujahideen resistance movement had achance of withstanding the modern, mechanized, technologically-advanced Soviet Army. Most stated that resistance was futile and thatthe Soviet Union had deliberately expanded their empire to the south.The Soviet Union had come to stay. Although some historians lookedat the British experience fighting the Afghan mountain tribesmen,most experts discounted any parallels since the Soviet Union pos-sessed an unprecedented advantage in fire power, technology andmilitary might. Although Arab leaders and the West supplied armsand material to the Mujahideen, they did so with the hope of creat-ing a permanent, bleeding ulcer on the Soviet flank, not defeatingthe Soviet Union. They did not predict that the Soviet Union wouldvoluntarily withdraw from Afghanistan in 1989.
What caused the Soviet withdrawal? The Soviets realized thatthey were trapped in an unwinnable war where they were suffering"death from a thousand cuts" by an intractable enemy who had no hopeof winning, but fought on because it was the right thing to do. Afterfailing to achieve military victory, the Soviet Union cut its losses andwithdrew. The Soviet Union lost 13,833 killed. Over 1.3 millionAfghans died and over a third of the population became refugees. Mosthave not yet returned to war-torn Afghanistan.
There have been few studies of guerrilla warfare from the guer-rilla's perspective. To capture this perspective and the tactical experi-ence of the Mujahideen, the United States Marine Corps commissioned this study and sent two retired combat veterans to interview Mujahideen. The authors were well received and generously assisted by various Mujahideen who willingly talked about their long, bitter war. The authors have produced a unique book which tells the guerrillas' story as interpreted by military professionals. This is a book about small-unit guerrilla combat. This is a book about death and survival, adaptation and perseverance.
This is a book for the combat-arms company and field grade officer and NCO. It provides an understanding of guerrilla field craft, tactics, techniques and procedures. It has application in Basic and AdvancedOfficer and NCO courses as well as special warfare courses. Seniorleaders will also find valuable insights for training and supportingguerrilla forces as well as defending against guerrilla forces. This book is a companion piece to The Bear Went Over the Mountain: Soviet Combat Tactics in Afghanistan which National Defense University press published in 1996.
# The People's Theater

New York: Henry Holt, page title
THE PEOPLE’S THEATER
Translated from the French of
ROMAIN ROLLAND
Author of Jean-Christophe, the plays The Fourteenth of July and Danton, etc., etc.
BY
BARRETT H. CLARK
Translator of Sardou’s Patrie, Three Modern Plays from the French, etc., etc.; author of British and American Drama of To-day, etc.
NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1918
CONTENTS
Page
PART I
THE THEATER OF THE PAST
Chapter
PART II
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To a Lady on Her 101st Birthday

To a Lady on Her 101St Birthday
1917
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To a Prospective Graduate

To a Prospective Graduate
1922
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/When the Snow Is on the Hill

When the Snow Is on the Hill
1919.
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To Towne's Volcanic Mount

To Towne's Volcanic Mount
March 23, 1918
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To Wilson M. Tylor

Songs of Friendship
To Wilson M. Tylor
Read at the Closing Meeting of the Alpha Class of Marshall Seminary
March 20, 1885
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To Some Old Revolutionary Earthworks

To Some Old Revolutionary Earthworks Now to Be Seen Near Scuylerville, N. Y.
1920
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To the American Flag

Songs of War and Country
To the American Flag
1918
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To the Grand Canyon of the Colorado

To the Grand Canyon of the Colorado
September 5, 1919.
# The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/We Saw Them March Away

We Saw Them March Away Dedicated to the Soldiers Who Left for Camp one Friday
1918
# The Night Land/Prologue

THE DREAMS THAT ARE ONLY DREAMS
“This to be Love, that your spirit to live in a natural holiness with the Beloved, and your bodies to be a sweet and natural delight that shall be never lost of a lovely mystery…. And shame to be unborn, and all things to go wholesome and proper, out of an utter greatness of understanding; and the Man to be an Hero and a Child before the Woman; and the Woman to be an Holy Light of the Spirit and an Utter Companion and in the same time a glad Possession unto the Man…. And this doth be Human Love….”
“…for this to be the especial glory of Love, that it doth make unto all Sweetness and Greatness, and doth be a fire burning all Littleness; so that did all in this world to have met The Beloved, then did Wantonness be dead, and there to grow Gladness and Charity, dancing in the years.”
# The Pocket Songster/Gloomy Winter's Now Awa'

GLOOMY WINTER'S NOW AWA'.
Gloomy winter's now awa', Saft the westling breezes blaw, 'Mang the birks o' Stanly shaw The mavis sings fu' cheery O; Sweet the crawflower's early bell Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell, Blooming like thy bonnie sel', My young, my artless dearie O. ​Come my lassie, let us stray O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae, Blythely spend the gowden day, 'Midst joys that never weary O.
Towering o'er the Newton woods, Lav'rocks fan the snaw-white clouds, Siller saughs, with downy buds, Adorn the banks sae briery O; Round the sylvan fairy nooks, Feathery breckans fringe the rocks, 'Neath the brae the burnie jouks, And ilka thing is cheery O; Trees may bud, and birds may sing, Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring, Joy to me they canna' bring, Unless wi' thee, my dearie O. Tannahill.
# The Pocket Magazine (Robins)/Volume 1/April 1827

* "The Pie" by Friedrich August Schulze, translated anonymously
* "Lines Written in an Album", author unknown
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Pocket Magazine (Robins)/Volume 1/April 1827/Lines Written in an Album

LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM.
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 Pocket Songster/O, Are Ye Sleepin', Maggie

O, ARE YE SLEEPIN', MAGGIE.
O, are ye sleepin', Maggie? O, are ye sleepin', Maggie? Let me in, for loud the linn Is roarin' o'er the warlock craigie!
Mirk an' rainy is the night, No a starn in a' the carrie, Lightnings gleam athwart the lift, An' winds drive on wi' winter's fury
Fearfu' soughs the boor-tree bank, The rifted wood roars wild an' drearie, Loud the iron yett does clank, An' cry o' howlets maks me eerie. O, are ye sleepin', &c.
Aboon my breath I daurna speak, For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie; Cauld's the blast upon my cheek, O rise, O rise, my bonnie lady. O, are ye sleepin', &c.
​She opt the door, she let him in, He cuist aside his dreepin' plaidie: Blaw your warst, ye rain and win', Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye.
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie, Now since ye're wauken, Maggie, What care I for howlets' cry, For boor-tree bank, or warlock craigie, Tannahill.
# The Pocket Magazine (Robins)

James Robins’ new series of The Pocket Magazine, 1827–1833, a continuation of Arliss’ Pocket Magazine
* Volume 1 (January–June 1827) (transcription project)
* Volume 2 (July–December 1827)
* Volume 3 (January–June 1828)
* Volume 4 (July–December 1828)
* Volume 5 (January–June 1829)
* Volume 6 (July–December 1829)
* Volume 7 (January–June 1830)
* Volume 8 (July–December 1830)
* Volume 9 (January–June 1831)
* Volume 10 (July–December 1831)
* Volume 11 (January–June 1832)
* Volume 12 (July–December 1832)
* Volume 13 (January–June 1833)
* Volume 14 (July–December 1833)
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Pocket Magazine (Robins)/Volume 1

January–June 1827
* January 1827 (transcription project)
* February 1827 (transcription project)
* March 1827 (transcription project)
* April 1827 (transcription project)
* May 1827 (transcription project)
* June 1827 (transcription project)
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Pocket Songster

Alex$^r$. Walker Sculp$^t$. Edin$^n$.
ROB$^T$. TANNAHILL.
Engraved for Colquhoun's Collection of Scotch Songs.
THE
POCKET SONGSTER;
OR.
CALEDONIAN WARBLER.
A COLLECTION
OF
Popular Scotch Songs,
AND A SELECTION OF NEW ONES.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
A VARIETY OF TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS.
EMBELLISHED WITH A PORTRAIT OF TANNAHILL,
AND FOUR ELEGANT ENGRAVINGS.
EDINBURGH:
1823.
ADVERTISEMENT.
We express our sincere thanks to our Friends who have contributed to our Little Work, and at same time to advertise them that a number of pieces came late for insertion in the place assigned; it will be seen throughout the Work, that the whole Songs have been classically arranged, and not wishing to break through the arrangements we had made, we have rather declined the insertion of them.
THE
Pocket Songster;
OR,
CALEDONIAN WARBLER.
* O, Are Ye Sleepin', Maggie
* Tam Glen
* My Nannie, O
* Maria, the Fairest oe Maids
* The Braes of Balquhither
* I Winna Gang Back to my Mammy
* Jessie
* Ae Night in Bonny Harvest Time
* Our Bonny Scots Lads
* One Summer Evening As I Roam'd
* The Highland Plaid
* Gloomy Winter's Now Awa'
* What Can a Young Lassie
* The Grecean's Song
DIRECTIONS TO THE BINDER.
Tannahill, to face the Title.
The Meeting, page 99.
Jamie, wi' his tartan plaid, page 208.
Auld Langsyne, page 277.
The King and the Tinker, page 359.
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 Pocket Songster/One Summer Evening As I Roam'd

ONE SUMMER EVENING AS I ROAM'D.
Tune—O, are ye sleepin', Maggie.
One summer evening as I roam'd Atween Monkland and Castle-Cary, There first I met a bonnie lass, My sweet, my charming, lovely Mary.
O my sweet, my charming Mary. O my lovely, winsome Mary. Cupid he has thrown a dart, That's fill'd my heart with love to Mary.
My vows I paid unto this maid, To them she did not seem contrary, But, oh! sad fate, they've try'd to break Those vows I plighted to my Mary. O my sweet, &c.
​A wicked viper whisper'd her, That I intended to miscarry; And said, I'd one was dearer still; That soon I'd go and leave my Mary. O my sweet, &c.
I was denied an interview With my sweet charming lovely deary; Long has she been parted from me, Nor can I hear aught of my Mary. O my sweet, &c.
Oft have I tried to find her out, But all attempts they do miscarry, Yet still I hope the time will come I shall again embrace my Mary. O my sweet, &c.
Then never, never shall we part, But happy I'll be with my deary; No envious wretch again shall come Between me and my lovely Mary. O my sweet, &c. C.
# The Other House

This work originated as a sketch for a play entitled The Promise. However James was unable to generate interest in it, and it was neither published nor produced on the stage. He later reworked the material into the novel The Other House, published in 1896. In 1909 he again reworked the novel back into play form, still under the title The Other House, but again this was neither produced nor published in James' lifetime. The play was finally published in 1945.
* "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (4 July–26 September 1896):
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (4 July 1896: 9–12.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (11 July 1896: 41–43.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (18 July 1896: 73–76.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (25 July 1896: 105–108.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (1 August 1896: 137–140.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (8 August 1896: 169–172.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (15 August 1896: 201–203.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (22 August 1896: 233–235.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (29 August 1896: 265–268.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (5 September 1896: 297–299.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (12 September 1896: 329–332.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (19 September 1896: 361–363.
** "The Other House" in Illustrated London News 109 (26 September 1896: 395–398.
    —First publication in any form. Illustrated by Walter Paget
* The Other House (London: William Heinemann, 1896)
** First English book edition. Bound in two volumes. Published 1 October 1896; sold at 10/-. The first printing was of 600 copies, but a second printing of 400 copies was ordered at the same time, and the two printings were bound at the same time. The second printing has "Second Edition" on the title page but is otherwise identical to the first, and is better regarded as a second impression of the first edition, rather than a second edition.
* The Other House (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1896)
    —First American book edition. Bound in a single volume. Published October 1896; sold at $1.50. A single printing of 2150 copies.
* The Other House (London: William Heinemann, 1897)
    —Second English book edition. A single printing of 1500 copies, bound into a single volume, published 17 July 1897 and sold at 6/-. Sheets from this edition were also bound into a Colonial edition.
* The Other House (manuscript)
    —James' original manuscript of Book Third of The Other House, held by the King's School, Canterbury
* "The Other House" in Edel, Leon (ed.) (1945), The Complete Plays of Henry James.
    —A play, worked up by James in 1909, but neither produced nor published in James' lifetime. The US copyright on Edel (1945) was renewed in 1977.
# The Other House (London: William Heinemann, 1896)/Volume 1

The Other House
By the Same Author, 6s. each.
Terminations
Pall Mall Gazette.—"These four stories are so clever, that one can only raise one's hands in admiration."
Embarrassments
The Times.—"Mr. James's stories are a continued protest against superficial workmanship and slovenly style. He is an enthusiast who has devoted himself to keeping alive the sacred fire of genuine literature ; and he has his reward in a circle of constant admirers, whose sympathy encourages him to persevere."
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
The Other House
By
Henry James
In Two Volumes
Vol. i
London
William Heinemann
1896
All rights reserved
* Book 1
* Book 2
# The Other House (London: William Heinemann, 1896)

(London: William Heinemann, 1896)
* Volume 1
* Volume 2
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 Other House (London: William Heinemann, 1896)/Volume 1/Book 1

BOOK FIRST
* Chapter 1
* Chapter 2
* Chapter 3
* Chapter 4
* Chapter 5
* Chapter 6
* Chapter 7
* Chapter 8
* Chapter 9
* Chapter 10
* Chapter 11
* Chapter 12
# The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/Aline
## Aline

How very beautiful The creatures of this earth can sometimes be! Aline was one of such; the summer rose Hath not a petal fairer than her cheek, Nor hath the light of the out-breaking sun More radiant gladness than her beaming smile. Her heart was full of gushing happiness.
The common air—the unfolding of a flower— The voice of streams—the music of a bird Was joy to her; and her glad spirit breathed Its light o'er all around: Yet her soft eye Was readier than a child's to fill with tears For human sorrow; and her heart pour'd out Its large affections over all that lived. There was no selfishness in its young pulse; Its thoughts were full of God, and all He made To breathe upon the earth shared in her love, And the upswelling of her sympathies.
Again, In after years I look'd upon Aline. Her face was lovely yet, but wore not all The bloom of its young freshness; and the light, That made its glance a gladness, was not there. A childish group was round, filling the room With their sweet laughter; and a bright-eyed girl, Who look'd Aline restored to youth again, Held to his mother's check the baby lips Of a young brother, crowing in his joy, As she laugh'd back to him.
Aline went forth Amidst her servants; and her voice arose Shrilly and harsh, and they shrunk back in dread From her stern eye. The keen and cruel scourge Was busy at her bidding; and the limbs Of woman bled before her, and the shriek Of childhood rose unheeded.
Then came one, Whose traffic was in human forms; whose wealth Was gather'd from the blood of breaking hearts, And the stern rending of the holiest ties That bless man's nature. For a price of gold, Her husband sold to him the only son Of a fond mother's love, and from the arms Of conjugal affection, a sad wife, With all her weeping babes—and she stood by— That once compassionate girl—without a tear; Seeing their misery, yet speaking not One word to save them. She who once, But at the thought of such iniquity, And so much wretchedness, had shuddering wept, Beheld it now without a passing pang; And careless went to her own babes again— So much had the best feelings of her heart Been sear'd by dwelling ‘midst a land of slaves.
# The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/A True Ballad
## A True Ballad

A glorious land is this of ours, A land of liberty! Through all the wide earth's bounds you ‘ll find None else so truly free!
Go north or south, or east or west, Wherever you may roam, There's not a land like this of ours, The stranger's refuge home!
And yet methinks it were but well, The tale might not be told, That where our banner proudliest floats, Are human sinews sold.
And when we boast that o'er our soil No tyrants footstep treads, 'T were well if we could hide the blood, The red scourge daily sheds.
Yet still is ours a glorious land! Our shouts rise wild and high— I would such tales as I have heard, Might give them not the lie.
It was a mournful mother, sat Within the prison walls; And bitterly adown her cheek The scalding tear-drop falls.
She sat within the prison walls, Amidst her infants three; The bars were strong, the bolts well drawn, She might not hope to flee.
And still the tears fell down her cheek, And when a footstep came, A shudder of convulsive fear Went o'er her quivering frame.
It was not for the dungeon's chill, Nor for the gloom it wore, Nor that the pangs of conscious guilt Her frighted bosom tore.—
For though in prison cell she lay, In freedom's happy clime, Her hand was innocent of wrong, They charged her not with crime;
T was that she wore a dusky brow, She lay within that hold, Until her human limbs and heart Were chaffer'd off for gold.
Sold with her babes—all, one by one, Forever torn apart— And not one faint hope left to cling Around her broken heart.
Yet still is ours a glorious land! Raise paeans loud and high, To that which fills all patriot breasts, Our country's liberty.
Her husband was a freeman good, He lived in Maryland; Where now in bootless grief he wept His broken marriage band.
He loved her when they both were young And though she was a slave, He wedded her, and with his hand, Changeless affection gave.
And when their prattling infants smiled, Upon his cottage floor, For them and her, with cheerful heart, His daily toil he bore.
But woe for him, and woe for her! Her children all were slaves; Less grief their parents’ hearts had borne, To weep above their graves.
For still as one by one they grew To childhood's franksome years, They one by one were torn away To bondage and to tears.—
Torn far away to distant scenes, Like green leaves from their stem; And never to their home, bereaved, Came tidings more of them.
Now all were wrench'd apart—there was No deeper grief to bear; And they might calmly sit them down In agonized despair.
For though our land is proudly free, All other lands above, There's none may dare to knit again, Those sacred cords of love.
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 Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/An Appeal for the Oppressed
## An Appeal for the Oppressed

Daughters of the Pilgrim sires, Dwellers by their mouldering graves, Watchers of their altar fires, Look upon your country's slaves!
Look! 't is woman's streaming eye, These are woman's fetter'd hands, That to you so mournfully Lift sad glance, and iron bands.
Mute, yet strong appeal of woe! Wakes it not your starting tears? Though your hearts may never know, Half the bitter doom of hers.
Scars are on her fetter'd limbs, Where the savage scourge hath been; But the grief, her eye that dims, Flows for deeper wounds within.
For the children of her love, For the brothers of her race, Sisters, like vine branches wove, In one early dwelling place.
For the parent forms, that hung Fondly o'er her infant sleep, And for him, to whom she clung With affection true and deep—
By her sad forsaken hearth, 'T is for these she wildly grieves! Now all scatter'd o'er the earth, Like the wind-strewn autumn leaves!
E'en her babes, so dear, so young, And so treasured in her heart, That the chords which round them clung Seem'd its life, its dearest part—
These, ev'n these, were torn away! These, that when all else were gone, Cheer'd her heart with one bright ray, That still bade its pulse beat on.
Then, to still her frantic woe, The inhuman scourge was tried, Till the tears that ceased to flow, Were with redder drops supplied!
And can you behold unmoved, All the crushing weight of grief, That her aching heart has proved, Seeking not to yield relief?
Are not woman's pulses warm, Beating in this anguish'd breast? Is it not a sister's form, On whose limbs these fetters rest?
Oh then, save her from a doom, Worse than all that ye may bear; Let her pass not to the tomb 'Midst her bondage and despair.