OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# An Elegy on the much lamented Death of His Royal Highness, William, Duke of Cumberland

* related portals: Jacobite broadsides.
* related authors: William Augustus.
An Elegy on the much lamented Death of His Royal Highness, William, Duke of Cumberland, who died suddenly on Thursday, October 31, 1765, at his House on Grosvner-Square, in the 46th Year of his Age.
Britannia mourn! What dismal News we hear! How fatal is the Tale to British Ear! Great Cumberland grim Death has snacth'd away; A Debt to Nature which all Princes pay.
O Death! why could thy Dart so cruel be, That it could strike no other Man but He? A Prince, by England, most rever'd, and lov'd; His Royal Conduct was by All approv'd. In mournful Strain to him our Voice we'll raise, And Fame's loud Trumpet shall his Actions praise.
Even in his Youth, how affable, how kind, How shining were his Sentiments of Mind! A generous Friend, both to Rich and Poor, No one went empty-handed from his Door;
Before he arrived unto his Twentieth Year, His Praises were resounded Far and Near; Taught Principles of Truth, his growing Fame, Did soon acquire him a most glorious Name.
His Royal Father, seeing that his Son, In warlike Feats, by None would be outdone; He put the General's Staff into his Hand, And of his Forces gave him chief Command; A General brave, a Soldier's constant Friend, By them is now lamented in his End.
These humble Lines their Sorrows cannot show, The Veteran Soliders Eyes with Tears overflow; The Cry goes round, 'Our Glorious William's dead; And from his Body his dear Soul is fled; A braver General never took the field, For to his Enemies he ne'er would yield.
In Germany's fair plains, there Fame be sought;
And, like a Lion, with French Forces fought;
And tho' oe'r-power'd, by Numbers, every Day HE never to the Enemy gave way; But still with Honour to Great Britan's Cause, He did defend it's Liberty and Laws; A Scourge to France, and Enemy to Spain, Unto this dying Breath he did remain; The Pope and Popery he would cry down, And fought the Battles of the British Crown; The Cause of Protestants he did defend, His Ear he always to Complaints would lend; In Germany, when he commanded there, He always of their Interest took great care.
When the Pretender into Scotland came, How then did glorious William raise his Name; He made their Caledonian Forces fly, And gain'd a Fame that sure will never die; The Rebel Clan were ne'er so trimm'd before, Where Thousand Scots lay weltering in their Gore; Culloden's Plains with Highland Blood did flow, 'Twas there our Hero did them overthrow; And what our British Generals took in Hand, T'was full compleated by great Cumberland. He disconcerted all the Rebels Schemes And made them soon forget their Golden Dreams; Made Charley, and his Crew, to fly away, And won the Vict'ry that important Day; A Day most glorious, in Great Britan's Cause, Which did protect this Country, and her Laws; His glorious Name in Britain e'er will shine, From earthly Stage he's gone to one divine.
FINIS.
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
# An Elementary Grammar of the Japanese Language

AN
ELEMENTARY GRAMMAR
OF THE
JAPANESE LANGUAGE.
AN
ELEMENTARY GRAMMAR
OF THE
JAPANESE LANGUAGE,
WITH
Easy Progressive Exercises.
BY TATUI BABA.
SECOND AND ENLARGED EDITION.
LONDON: TRÜBNER AND CO., 57 & 59, LUDGATE HILL.
NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND CO., 1, 3, & 5, BOND STREET.
1888.
[All rights reserved.]
LONDON:
PRINTED BY GILBERT AND BIVINGTON, LIMITED,
ST. JOHN’S HOUSE, CLERKENWELL ROAD.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE LORD HOUGHTON,
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR.
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
# An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard (1751)

First published in 1751, this transcription is of the first edition. The title was not changed to the more familiar "written in" until the eighth edition, published in 1753. [Based on A Bibliography of Thomas Gray (1917), by Clark Sutherland Northup, pp. 74-75.]
ΑΝ
ELEGY
WROTE IN A
Country Church Yard.
LONDON: Printed for R. Dodsley in Pall-mall; And sold by M. Cooper in Pater-noster-Row. 1751. [ Price Six-pence. ]
Advertisement.
The following Poem came into my Hands by Accident, if the general Approbation with which this little Piece has been spread, may be call'd by so slight a Term as Accident. It is this Approbation which makes it unnecessary for me to make any Apology but to the Author: As he cannot but feel some Satisfaction in having pleas'd so many Readers already, I flatter myself he will forgive my communicating that Pleasure to many more.
The EDITOR.
AN
ELEGY, &c.
FINIS.
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
# An Elegy on Winter in Argyleshire

‘With cheerless gloom and storm-portending clouds Rude Winter brushes from Antarctic wilds, The front of Heav’n, in murky vapours shrouds, Then bursts his sounding freightage o’er our isles. No more are heard the thrush’s mellow notes, No more the plover mounts the ev’ning breeze, No more the soaring lark on ether floats, Spoil’d of their honours, mourn the leafless trees. The front of Heav’n, erewhile so bright and gay, Now scowls on Nature’s universal scene, And shatt’ring hail, and howling tempests play, Where wav’d one nodding canopy of green. No more the brook, in rippling murmurs, glides, And, with its silver tinkling, soothes the ear, Nor Wollondilly, smile thy gentle tides, But swoll’n to torrents, toward ocean bear.’ Thus ’plain’d I, while, by Wollondilly’s stream, With ling’ring step, I sought my devious way, A little naiad marked my plaintive theme, And thus, in chiding numbers, seemed to say:— ‘Why, mortal, mourn’st thou nature’s beauties gone? Why hang desponding strains upon thy tongue? Repine not! for a little season flown, Renewed in loveliness they’ll rise ere long. When howling Winter’s stormy course is run, When his chill blasts to northern climes are driven, Then shall Spring’s blooming bosom greet the Sun, And joy shine forth from bounty-beaming Heaven.’ Thus sung the nymph, when, from the pebbly bed O’er which the bubbling stream delights to play, Adown its maze her airy image fled, On the bleak gale her accents died away. As round the earth the changeful seasons roll, Before the vernal Sun dark vapours fly; So, from the dust, mounts the aspiring soul To join her kindred spirits in the sky.
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
# An Elementary Grammar of the Japanese Language/Preface

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
When this book was published in 1873, the object was twofold. The first was to protest against an idea entertained by some of my countrymen that the Japanese language is very imperfect, and therefore it must be exterminated. This idea, however, appears to have been given up as altogether preposterous and extravagant. The second was to give the general idea of the Japanese language as it is spoken. Maturer thought suggests to me some alterations, but I found that no material change is necessary. I have added several new Exercises which I deemed advisable, and trusting that in its new form it will prove acceptable, I have the pleasure of submitting a second edition of the work.
The Author.
# An Elegy on the Death and Burial of Cock Robin

THE
Death and Burial
OF
COCK ROBIN.
The fields provide me food, and show The goodness of the Lord: But fruits of life and glory grow In thy most holy word.
AN ELEGY
ON THE
Death and Burial
OF
COCK ROBIN.
Ornamented with Cuts.
YORK. Printed by J. Kendrew, 23, Colliergate.
COCK ROBIN.
WHO kill'd Cock Robin? I, says the Sparrow, With my bow and arrow, And I kill'd Cock Robin.
This is the Sparrow, With his bow and arrow.
Who saw him die? I, said the Fly, With my little eye, And I saw him die.
This is the Fly, With his little eye.
Who caught his blood? I, said the Fish, With my little dish, And I caught his blood.
This is the Fish, That held the dish.
Who made his shroud? I, said the Beetle, With my little needle, And I made his shroud.
This is the Beetle, With his thread and needle.
Who shall dig the grave? I, said the Owl, With my spade and shov'l, And I'll dig his grave.
This is the Owl so brave, That dug Cock Robin's grave.
Who will be the Parson? I, said the Rook, With my little book, And I will be the Parson.
Here's parson Rook, A reading his book.
Who will be the clerk? I, said the Lark, If 'tis not in the dark, And I will be the clerk.
Behold how the Lark, Says Amen, like a clerk.
Who'll carry him to the grave? I, said the Kite, If 'tis not in the night, And I'll carry him to the grave.
Behold now the Kite, How he takes his flight.
Who will carry the link, I, said the Linnet, I'll fetch it in a minute, And I'll carry the link.
Here's the Linnet with a light Altho' 'tis not night.
Who'll be the chief mourner? I, said the Dove, For I mourn for my love, And I'll be the chief mourner.
Here's a pretty Dove, That mourns for her love.
Who'll bear the pall? We, says the Wrens, Both the cock and the hen, And we,ll bear the pall.
See the Wrens so small, Who bore Cock Robin's pall.
Who'll sing a psalm? I, says the Thrush, As he sat in a bush, And I'll sing a psalm.
Here's a fine Thrush, Singing psalms in a bush.
Who'll toll the bell? I, says the Bull, Because I can pull, So Cock Robin farewell.
All the birds in the air, Fell a sighing and sobbing, When they heard the bell toll For poor Cock Robin.
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
# An emigrant's home letters/Letter Ten

Layout 2
LETTER TEN.
London, March 1st, 1839.
My Dear Sister,
We received your last parcel on Sunday, and were very much rejoiced to learn that father and mother were then both better.
I am rather unwell, and unable to stick to my work as closely as I ought to do. The consequence of which, together with having to lose time for other purposes, is that I do not earn more than it just takes to keep us. This week I shall not earn sufficient. I have had a slight cough ever since I have been in London, which comes upon me chiefly at night, and is worse now than it ever has been. I also have a kind of soreness and stiffness at my chest, and can get no comfortable sleep. I verily believe I have not had ​a good night's rest since I have been up here. What sleep I do get seems to oppress me more than refresh me, and is very broken* Being pent in a frowsy London garret, with no one to speak to, not even a dog, and breathing the same impure air from week's end to week's end, has made Clarinda very poorly, and half unhappy. Nevertheless, tell my father and mother and all who enquire after us that we are well and happy, as I believe we both shall be when we leave this irksome place.
I shall not write more than one other letter to you before we go, and that on the last day before we join the ship, because of the expense, so I shall endeavour to say all I have to say in this. I have strong hopes of getting a good situation as soon as I arrive at Sydney, as all who have hitherto gone out in Mr. Marshall's ships have been engaged within a week of the time of landing, and if I get a situation at £50 or £60 per year and provisions and a house to live in, I shall be able to send some money home in a year and a half from the present time, and enough soon to pay all I owe at Birmingham. And that will be a happy time with me. I shall write to you by the first homeward bound vessel we meet after we have been out eight or ten ​weeks, so you may expect to hear from us in about six months, and again at the end of in year. And I hope I shall he able to tell you how I like New South Wales. I wish Maria could come up to London before we go, for I should dearly like to look upon some one of you again, but I know it cannot be, and blame myself for naming it.
With respect to the likeness, I would rather no more was said about it, as I am unable, however cheaply it was done, to be at the expense, and I am most unwilling you should be, but I leave the matter with you. If things were not so very awkward I should dearly like for you to have both mine and Clarinda's. You may get a portrait, a pretty good likeness, for about six or seven shillings. I do not mean one of those black profiles.
I must now conclude with many thanks and good wishes.
Give our sincere love to all.
Yours, H. PARKES.
# An emigrant's home letters/Letter Thirteen

Layout 2
LETTER THIRTEEN.
London, February 18, 1839.
My Dear Father,
My sister, in a letter which I received last Friday, informed me of your sudden and alarming illness; but I hope you are now much better, and trust that I shall learn from her next letter that you are safely restored to your former state of health. I had the pain of learning from the same letter of the increased illness of my poor mother. This did not surprise me, but I sincerely hope I shall be surprised the next time I hear from you by the assurance of her being more comfortable and happy. He who, in His wisdom and chastening^ love, has so long and so heavily afflicted my beloved mother, and who now has brought you, my dear father, to the ​very door of death—He, and only He, can support you both in your trials and distresses, and I trust He will. I sincerely hope that the Father of all mercies, in the exercise of his unbounded goodness, will provide for you in your last days, and bless you as you descend into the grave. And when I can no longer, or but seldom, hear how you fare in this world of trouble, you may be far happier than I ever knew you. Trusting that I shall soon hear that both of yon are much better, I remain, my dear father.
Your affectionate son, HENRY PARKES.
Accept, dear parents, the united love of Clarinda and myself.
# An emigrant's home letters/Letter Six

Layout 2
LETTER SIX.
January 1st, 1836.
My Dear Sister,
I am obliged to send to you again, so soon upon my last letter, as I expect we shall embark much earlier than I stated to you. A ship goes on the 29th of this month, and I believe we shall go in that. My chief reason for writing now is that we must have a certificate of being in sound health from a respectable medical man. I send a form of one on this sheet. You will be pleased to get Mr. Porter, or if he has left the town, Mr. Charles Porter, to sign it, since I never had any other medical attendant, and the gentleman who attended Clarinda has left the country, so that it is impossible to apply to him. ​All that it affirms lie could readily ascertain by applying to Mr. Houldin and Clarinda's friends. If you can possibly get all the signatures by Thursday afternoon send them in a parcel to me the same evening. Take it to the Albion coach office early enough, say four or five o'clock, so that I shall be sure to get them at the office here the next morning. I would rather have the certificates in Mr. Porter's own writing. I only have written this that it may be something like the prescribed printed form of the Government emigration committee, but the one I send will do.
The clothes can be made up on the passage. If you can exchange any of the books for cloth for them, or stockings that would do for either of us, or four or five handkerchiefs, you will befriend us. If Booker would make my shoes, and you think you could pay him in two months after I am gone, I should be very glad to have them.
I shall write to my father, to Eliza, and to my brothers before I go. I think you will hear from us if we go this month about next October, but not before. I shall send to you once or twice before we go.
Clarinda will want half a pound of white ​cotton and shirt buttons, if you can exchange books for them. Give our best love to all friends.
Your affectionate brother, H. PARKES.
# An emigrant's home letters/Letter Sixteen

Layout 2
LETTER SIXTEEN.
London, March 17th, 1839.
My Dear Sisters,
We received your parcel this afternoon, and were quite surprised with the heap of things you have sent. I fear you are suffering very much yourselves by helping us so greatly. I am very sorry you had to pay so much for the certificates. The sovereign which Clarinda's aunt sent came very well-timed, or we should have had to leave some of our things in pawn, as I was unable to earn much at work last week. Cannot have the brace now, but never mind about it. Keep the paper, as I shall very likely send for some tools when I send to you from Sydney. Am sorry you have had so much trouble to no purpose. Am extremely thankful to you for everything. I ​could not have gone if it had not been for you. Could not even have come from Birmingham if it had not been for you, but I trust I shall soon be able to repay you. Please to let Thomas put the note so directed into the editor's box of the Journal office. There are some verses of mine in The Charter newspaper of this day (17th), and I expect more will be in the next two or three numbers; the price is sixpence. Please to send me a Journal of next Saturday by post as soon as it is out.
I like all the things very much. I am very anxious now to get off. I think we shall be sure to earn a little money on the voyage some way or other. If I get a situation I will obtain £10 and send with my first letter from Sydney.
Will write a farewell to you last thing, as much as a sheet of paper will hold. Have no more time now.
Yours truly, H. PARKES
Give my love and Clarinda's to my dear father and mother.
# An emigrant's home letters/Letter Thirty-One

Layout 2
LETTER THIRTY-ONE.
Sydney, 26th January, 1843.
My Dear Sister,
I received in November last your letter of the date June, 1842, conveying to me the particulars of my mother's death. I was in some degree prepared for this sad intelligence, but when I knew for a certainty that I should see that dearest face no more,—that she, whose love for us gathered strength from affliction and misfortune, was now resting in the grave and could no longer participate in her children's happiness or sorrow, when I knew that my mother indeed was dead, I felt as if a portion of this world's beauty was lost to me for ever. But it is a blessed thing to know there is another and a better world where sorrow never troubleth and the weary are at rest. ​Could we have been allowed to meet again, for me to have heard her bless my dear little child and listen to her mother's story of her birth, it would have been to me a happiness greater than I can ever more expect. This, however, could not be, and there is One above, who, in His wisdom, ordered it should not be so, against whose decrees we must not rebel. May the almighty and all-merciful Being comfort and support those she has left behind in my native country. Perhaps I am never to see any of you again, but while I live I shall cling to the hope of returning to dear England. In my last letter I believe I mentioned that I had not been very fortunate lately, and I have delayed writing since with the hope of being enabled to tell you things with me were better, which I can assure you is now the case.
The circumstances of the colony are still very bad. A large mercantile house failed yesterday to the amount of £130,000. Declaration of insolvency is a matter of almost every day occurrence among the tradespeople of Sydney. Wages are very low, and employment not very plentiful in Sydney. In the country the only demand for labour is as shepherds, and for this purpose the flock-masters are striving their utmost to obtain ​hill coolies from India on the ground, they state, of not being able to give the price of European labour, which is at present from £15 to £20 per annum and rations. But I think things will shortly improve.
In your last letter you remind me of my duty to assist my father, and I am sorry and ashamed to tell you it is not in my power at present to remit anything home. At the earliest possible period I will do so. I think I may say for certain in the course of this year. I often wish he was here with me, as I am sure I could make him comfortable. I could take a farm of thirty acres within a few miles of Sydney at as low a rent as I pay for our house in the town, or I could purchase an allotment of land and build ourselves a cottage outside the town, but to all these things at present the objection is Clarinda's being left alone at those times when my situation requires my absence for weeks together. I have not time to say more, as a ship sails this afternoon. Give the united love of myself, wife, and child to all. Clarinda and Clarinda Sarah are both well.
I am, my dear sister. Yours most affectionately, HENRY PARKES.
# An emigrant's home letters/Letter Thirty-Three

see preceding Note
Layout 2
LETTER THIRTY-THREE
October 6th, 1844.
My Dear Wife,
Being hard tasked on board the Harlequin to get my time off my hands (for day and night I am utterly alone here) I have resolved to write you a love letter. It is many days, some of them, I hope, happy ones, since my last love letter, and in their wintry sweep over my head they have let fall some flakes of snow, and then they have somewhat withered, and in their course they have hurried us over a dreary wide distance of billowy sea, severing us, perhaps for ever, from our native home. But many, many darker days than the darkest we have known could not blight or chill that life of love in my heart which dictated that last letter and which dictates this. Yes, Clarinda, my own first (for I have a second now) dear Clarinda, if ever a heart was constant in its love, that heart is yours ​in mine. I have questioned myself on this matter often and deeply, and my soul has returned one only answer—'I love her truly, passionately love her!' My imagination has often of late conjured up before me my beloved as I first knew her in the spring of womanhood, and I have listened again to her first fond words to me—me, a poor and friendless boy, to whom then none other had ever spoken fondly; and all her faults (for faults I tell her most lovingly she has) were lost in the beauty of her pure and deep affection. And, oh! I feel that, though I was greatly rich and loaded with honour and courted and flattered by the world (which, happily, I never shall be), still there would be one whose smile to me was like the common sunshine, without which I could not live to enjoyment.
And this is my love letter to my dear wife and companion, to whom I am now, for ever and ever, with a heart full of love,
HENRY PARKES.