OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/Thou'rt sair alter'd

Thou’rt sair alter’d.
[John Imlah.]
Thou'rt sair alter'd now, May, Thou'rt sair alter'd now, The rose is wither'd frae thy cheek, The wrinkle's on thy brow; And grey hath grown the locks o' jet, Sae shining wont to be, Thou alter'd sair,—but, May, thou'rt yet The May o' yore to me.
Thy voice is faint and low. May, That aft in former time Hath woke the wild bird's envious chant, The echo's amorous chime; Thy e'e hath lost its early light, My star in ither years, That aye hath beam'd sae kindly bright, To me through smiles and tears.
For a' the signs that show, May, The gloamin' o' our day, I lo'ed thee young—I lo'e thee yet, My ain auld wifie, May; Nae dearer hope ha'e I than this, Beyond the day we die, Thy charms shall bloom again to bless My halidome on hie.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Thou art gane awa'

Thou art gane awa’.
[Printed anonymously in Urbani's collection and Johnson's Museum.—Tune, "Haud awa' frae me, Donald."]
Thou art gane awa', thou art gane awa', Thou art gane awa' frae me, Mary! Nor friends nor I could make thee stay— Thou hast cheated them and me, Mary! Until this hour I never thought That ought could alter thee, Mary; Thou'rt still the mistress of my heart, Think what you will of me, Mary.
Whate'er he said or might pretend, That stole the heart of thine, Mary, True love, I'm sure, was ne'er his end, Or nae sic love as mine, Mary. I spoke sincere, nor flattered much, Had no unworthy thoughts, Mary; Ambition, wealth, nor naething such; No, I loved only thee, Mary.
Though you've been false, yet while I live, I'll lo'e nae maid but thee, Mary; Let friends forget, as I forgive, Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary; So then, farewell! of this be sure, Since you've been false to me, Mary; For all the world I'd not endure Half what I've done for thee, Mary.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 19/Number 111

January 1867
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XIX.—JANUARY, 1867.—NO. CXI.
* The Guardian Angel, by Oliver Wendell Holmes (part 1 of 6)
* Fitz Adam's Story, by James Russell Lowell
* A Plea for Culture, by T. W. Higginson
* Henry Ward Beecher's Church, by James Parton
* The Palatine, by John G. Whittier
* The Strange Friend, by Bayard Taylor
* Capillary Freaks, by Charles Dawson Shanly
* Katherine Morne, by the author of "Herman" (part 3 of 7)
* The Causes for which a President can be impeached, by C. M. Ellis
* The Contention between Achilles and Agamemnon, by Homer, translated by William Cullen Bryant
* The Man who stole a Meeting-House, by J. T. Trowbridge
* Terminus, by Author:Ralph Waldo Emerson
* An Appeal to Congress for Impartial Suffrage, by Frederick Douglass
* Pan in Wall Street, by E. C. Stedman
* The Kingdom of Infancy, by Walter Mitchell
* Reviews and Literary Notices
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by Ticknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 19/Number 112

February 1867
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XIX.—FEBRUARY, 1867.—NO. CXII.
* The Guardian Angel, by Oliver Wendell Holmes (part 2 of 6)
* Mona, by Alice Cary
* Characteristics of the Elisabethan Literature, by E. P. Whipple
* George Bedillion's Knight, by Mrs. R. B. Davis (part 1 of 2)
* Comic Journalism, by Charles Dawson Shanly
* Elizabeth's Chamber, by Author:A. West
* Katharine Morne, by the author of "Herman" (part 4 of 7).
* A Drift-wood Fire, by T. W. Higginson
* Real Estate, by J. T. Trowbridge
* How Mr. Frye would have preached it, by Author:Edward Everett Hale
* Glacial Phenomena in Maine, by L. Agassis (part 1 of 2)
* Forza Maggiore, by W. D. Howells
* The Guerdon, by T. B. Aldrich
* Recollections of John Vanderlyn, the Artist, by Bishop Kip
* The Republican Alliance, by Joseph Mazzini
* The Stand-point of the Boarding-House, by J. Dana Howard
* Reviews and Literary Notices
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by Ticknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 19/Number 116

June 1867
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XIX.—JUNE, 1867.—NO. CXVI.
* The Guardian Angel
* The City of St. Louis
* The Red School-House
* A Venetian Experience
* Negro Spirituals
* Poor Richard
* G. L. S.
* Golden Chains
* Shakespeare, the Man and the Dramatist
* The Founders of Montreal
* Russian America
* Among the Comedians
* Reviews and Literary Notices
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by Ticknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 19/Number 114

April 1867
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XIX.—APRIL, 1867.—NO. CXIV.
* The Guardian Angel, by Oliver Wendell Holmes
* The Restless, by Hiram Rich
* Pioneering, by C. H. Dall
* The United States Sanitary Commission, by Edward Everett Hale
* The Haunted Window, by T. W. Higginson
* Katharine Morne, by the Author of "Herman"
* Timon's Soliloquy, by T. Buchanan Read
* Considerations on University Reform, by John Fiske
* The Claudian Emissary, by Theodore Bacon
* Travel in the United States, by Bayard Taylor
* Chester Harding
* A Familiar Epistle to a Friend, by James Russell Lowell
* Adelaide Ristori, by Kate Field
* A Winter Adventure on the Prairie, by M. Ed. Brown
* Reviews and Literary Notices
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by Ticknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 19/Number 113

March 1867
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XIX.—MARCH, 1867.—NO. CXIII.
* The Guardian Angel
* Out on Picket
* Glacial Phenomena in Maine
* The River
* George Bedillion, Knight
* Mr. Hardhack on the Derivation of Man from the Monkey
* Katharine Morne
* All Here
* Chicago
* Labor
* My Friend Bingham
* On a Marble by Dubois
* A Glimpse of Genoa
* Rags
* The True Problem
* Reviews and Literary Notices
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by Ticknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
# The American Geologist/Volume 18

July-December 1896
# The American Generals

Serial article in Once a Week.
* Part 1
* Part 2
# The American Geologist

Academic journal covering geology in the United States
# The American Historical Review

Official publication of the American Historical Association.
Volumes:
* I IA
* II IA
* III IA
* IV IA
* V IA
* VI (transcription project)
* VII IA
* VIII IA
* IX IA
* X IA
* XI IA
* XII (transcription project)
* XIII IA
* XIV IA
* XV IA
* XVI IA
* XVII IA
* XVIII IA
* XIX IA
* XX IA
* XXI IA
* XXII IA
* XXIII (transcription project)
* XXIV IA
* XXV IA
* XXVI IA
* XXVII IA
* XXVIII IA
# The American Historical Review/Volume 12

THE
AMERICAN HISTORICAL REVIEW
BOARD OF EDITORS
GEORGE B. ADAMS J. FRANKLIN JAMESON GEORGE L. BURR ANDREW C. McLAUGHLIN ALBERT BUSHNELL HART WILLIAM M. SLOANE H. MORSE STEPHENS
MANAGING EDITOR J. FRANKLIN JAMESON
VOLUME XII
OCTOBER 1906 TO JULY 1907
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd. 1907
Copyright 1907 By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Press of The New Era Printing Company, Lancaster, Pa.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME XII
Number 1. October, 1906.
ARTICLES
James F. Baldwin The Privy Council of the Time of Richard II. 1
W. B. MUNRO The Office of Inlendant in New France. . 15
J. Holland Rose Canning and the Spanish Patriots in 1S08 . 39
Frederic L. Paxson The Territory of Colorado • • • • 53
Walter F. McCaleb The Organization of the Post-Office Department of the Confederacy. .... 66
DOCUMENTS— Letters of Jefferson to Marbois, 17S1, 1783; Journal of John Mair, 1791 ; Project of Latin- American Confederation, 1856; Letter of Stephen R. Mallory, 1861 ; Letter of Grant to his Father, on the Capture of Vicksburg, 1863 75
REVIEWS OF BOOKS 110
COMMUNICATIONS 183
NOTES AND NEWS 186
Number 2. January, 1907.
ARTICLES
Simeon E. Baldwin Religion Still the Key to History 219
Paul Mantoux French Reports of British Parliamentary Debates in the Eighteenth Century 244
Henry Vignaud Proof that Columbus was Born in 145 1 ; A New Document 270
Henry L. Janes The Black Warrior Affair 280
A British Officer The Literature of the South African War, 1899-1902 299
DOCUMENTS—Letters of Thomas Newe from South Carolina, 1682 ; Narrative of a Voyage to Maryland, 1705-1706; Intercepted Letters of Virginian Tories, 1775; Letter of John Marshall to James Wilkinson, 1787; Gilman v. McClary: A New Hampshire Case of 1791. 322
REVIEWS OF BOOKS 351
NOTES AND NEWS 441 ​Number 3. April, 1907.
ARTICLES
The Meeting of the American Historical Association at Providence. 483
Edward P. Cheyney Some English Conditions surrounding the Settlement of Virginia .... 507
Claude H. Van Tyne Sovereignty in the American Revolution: an Historical Study . . . . 529
W. H. Isely The Sharps Rifle Episode in Kansas History. 546
James Albert Woodburn The Attitude of Thaddeus Stevens Toward the Conduct of the Civil War . . . 567
DOCUMENTS — The Catholic Mission in Maryland, 1641 ; Edmund Randolph on the British Treaty, 1795 ; Virgil Maxcy on Calhoun's Political Opinions and Prospects, 1823 584
REVIEWS OF BOOKS 602
NOTES AND NEWS 703
NUMBER 4. July, 1907.
ARTICLES
Charles Gross Mortmain in Medieval Boroughs . . . 733
Roland G. Usher Nicholas Fuller: A Forgotten Exponent of English Liberty 743
Frank P. Goodwin The Rise of Manufactures in the Miami Country ....... 7^^
William E. Dodd Chief Justice Marshall and Virginia . . 776
Eugene C. Barker President Jackson and the Texas Revolution 788
DOCUMENT — Directorium ad Faciendum Passagium Transmarinum. 810
REVIEWS OF BOOKS 858
NOTES AND NEWS 937
INDEX . . . . . . . . 971
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Lady of my Love

The Lady of my Love.
[This and the following song originally appeared in "The Portfolio of British Song," with the initials, "Q. K."]
From off this sunny mountain's top I look, with ardent eyes, To one romantic little spot, That holds the all I prize. 'Tis yon old mansion down the dell, Half hid behind the grove, Where, calm and innocent, doth dwell The lady of my love, my love, The lady of my love.
Oh! I could muse for ever here, Unwearied of the scene, Content to see my love appear On balcony or green; A happy solitary wight, I would not seek to rove, But feast my eyes, from morn till night, With visions of my love, my love, With visions of my love.
The sky above, the earth below, Are studded each with flowers; It recks not to what place we go— We see them at all hours; For night, that shades the flowers below, Opes those that shine above, As sleep, that shuts my present show, Brings dreams of her I love, I love, Brings dreams of her I love.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Land o' Cakes

The Land o’ Cakes.
[John Imlah.—Air, "The Black Watch."]
The land o' cakes! the land o' cakes! O! monie a blessing on it; Fair fa' the land o' hills, o' lakes, The bagpipe and the bonnet. The countrie o' the kilted clans, That cowed the Dane and Roman; Whose sons ha'e still the hearts an' han's To welcome friend or foeman. Then swell the sang baith loud and lang, Till the hills like aspens quiver; An' fill ye up, and toast the cup, The land o' cakes for ever.
Be scorn'd the Scot within whose heart Nae patriot flame is burning; Wha kent nae pain frae hame to part, Nae joy when back returning. Nae love for him in life shall yearn, Nae tears in death deplore him; He hath nae coronach nor cairn, Wha shames the land that bore him. Then swell the sang, &c.
Fair flower the gowans in our glens, The heather on our mountains; The blue bells deck our wizard dens, An' kiss our sparkling fountains. On knock an' knowe, the whin an' broom, An' on the braes the breckan; Not even Eden's flowers in bloom Could sweeter blossoms reckon. Then swell the sang, &c.
When flows our quegh within the glen, Within the hall our glasses; We'll toast auld Scotland's honest men, Thrice o'er her bonnie lasses. And deep we'll drink the Queen and Kirk, Our country and our freedom; Wi' broad claymore an' Highland dirk, We're ready when they need them. Then swell the sang, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Lass's Wardrobe

The Lass's Wardrobe.
[Given in Chambers's Journal, No. 175, where it is said to have been written by an old unmarried lady, as a kind of burlesque of her own habits and history. It is sung to an air resembling that of "The Laird of Cockpen."]
A lass lived down by yon burn-braes, And she was weel provided wi' claes; She had three mutches a' but twa, And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'. Take her awa', tak' her awa', Nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'; She had three mutches, a' but twa, And nae bonnie lad wad tak her awa'.
She had a gown, it was just at the making,
It wanted the forebreadth, it wanted the backing; It wanted the sleeves, the lining and a', And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'. Tak' her awa', &c.
She had twa stockings, they were at the knitting, They wanted the legs, they wanted the fitting; They wanted the heids, the heels, and a', And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'. Tak' her awa', &c.
She had a shawl, it was just like a riddle, It wadna been the waur o' the threid and the needle; For the middle was holed, and the border awa', And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'. Tak' her awa', &c.
She had a pouch to had her siller, Wi' it she thocht to catch the miller; But she tint the pouch, the siller, and a', And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'. Tak' her awa', &c.
She had a kist to haud her claes, It might ha'e ser'd her a' her days; But, like a gowk, she gied it awa', And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'. Tak' her awa', &c.
Sae now she lives in a wee bit garret, Without ae friend but a cat and a parrot; For her father is dead, and her mither, and a', And nae bonnie lad has ta'en her awa'. Ta'en her awa', &c.
And what can she do but live her lane, Sin' a' her hopes o' marriage are gane; For she's auld, she's bald, she's wrinkled, and a', And nae bonnie lad will tak' her awa'. Tak' her awa', &c.
Now listen, fair damsels, to my lays, Ye wha are vain about your claes; For if ye're no guid as weel as braw, O nae bonnie lad will tak' ye awa'. Tak' ye awa', tak' ye awa', Nae bonnie lad will tak' ye awa', If ye're no guid as well as braw, O nae bonnie lad will tak' ye awa'.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Laird o' Lamington

The Laird o' Lamington.
[Words and Music by James Hogg.]
Can I bear to part wi' thee, Never mair thy face to see,— Can I bear to part wi' thee,
Drucken Laird o' Lamington?
Canty war ye ower your kale, Toddy jugs, and jaups o' yill; Heart aye kind, and leal, and hale,— The honest Laird o' Lamington!
He that swears is but so so; He that cheats to hell must go; He that falls in bagnio, Falls in the devil's frying-pan. ​Wha was't ne'er put aith to word, Never fleech'd to duke or lord, Never sat at sinfa' board?— The honest Laird o' Lamington.
He that cheats can ne'er be just; He that lies is ne'er to trust; He that drinks to drauk his dust, Wha can say that wrang is done?
Wha was't ne'er to fraud inclined? Never lied sin' he could mind? Ane whase drouth there's few can find?— The honest Laird o' Lamington!
I like a man to tak' his glass, Toast his friend and bonnie lass; He that winna is an ass— Deil send him ane to gallop on!
I like a man that's frank and kind, Meets me when I ha'e a mind, Sings his sang and drinks me blind, Like the honest Laird o' Lamington.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Landart Laird

The Landart Laird.
[From Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs 1806.]
There lives a landart laird in Fife, And he has married a dandily wife: She wadna shape, nor yet wad she sew, But sit wi' her cummers, and fill hersel' fu'.
She wadna spin, nor yet wad she card; But she wad sit and crack wi' the laird. Sae he is doun to the sheep-fauld, And cleekit a wether by the spauld.
He's whirled aff the gude wether's slcn, And wrapped the dandily lady therein, "I downa pay you, for your gentle kin; But weel may I skelp my wether's skin."
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Lark

The Lark.
[James Hogg.—Music by Clark.]
Bird of the wilderness, Blythesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblem of happiness, Blessed is thy dwelling-place, Oh! to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud; Love gives it energy, love gave it birth; Where on the dewy wing, Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and mountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day; Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, hie, hie thee away.
Then when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Bird of the wilderness, Blessed is thy dwelling-place, Oh! to abide in the desert with thee.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Lark and Wren

The Lark and Wren.
[James Macdonald.—Here first printed.—Air, "Chough and Crow."]
The lark and wren are long awake, The throstle sings in glee; The morning breeze sweeps o'er the brake In joyous liberty. The dew bells swing in beauty bland, The streamlet chants its lay; Then bear a hand, my merry band, It is our harvest day.
The village maids, all braided fair, Are tripping o'er the green, And shepherd lads, with floating hair, Are kissing beauty's queen. Each happy swain o'er all the land Enjoys this morning gay, Then bear a hand, my merry band, This is our harvest day.
When evening brings its shady hour Then who so blythe as we? The lamp of love in barn and bower Lights up a scene of glee; Old Time forgets his running sand And joins our roundelay, Now bear a hand, my merry band, This is our harvest day.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Laird o' Cockpen

"Some time after Nairne's death in 1845, two additional stanzas were added to the song. Rogers, in his The Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne (external scan), attributes them to the novelist Susan Ferrier" [to whom the original poem itself is attributed in the edition below], "but she denied having written them and claimed that their author was Sir Alexander Boswell." Warning: template has been deprecated.
The Laird o' Cockpen.
[This popular humorous ditty is attributed to Miss Ferrier, the authoress of Marriage, The Inheritance, and Destiny, three novels of distinguished merit. The two concluding verses are by another hand. The song is sung to the old air of "When she cam' ben she bobbed."]
The Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud an' he's great; His mind is ta'en up wi' the things o' the state: He wanted a wife his braw house to keep, But favour wi' wooin' was fashions to seek.
Doun by the dyke-side a lady did dwell. At his table-head he thought she'd look well; M'Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee. A pennyless lass wi' a lang pedigree.
His wig was weel pouther'd, as guid as when new, His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue; He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat— And wha could refuse the Laird wi' a' that? ​He took the grey mare, and rade cannilie— And rapped at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee; "Gae tell mistress Jean to come speedily ben: She's wanted to speak wi' the Laird o' Cockpen."
Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder-flower wine; "And what brings the Laird at sic a like time?" She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown, Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' down.
And when she cam' ben, he boued fu' low; And what was his errand he soon let her know. Amazed was the Laird when the lady said, Na, And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'.
Dumfounder'd he was, but nae sigh did he gi'e; He mounted his mare, and rade cannilie; And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen, "She's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen."
And now that the Laird his exit had made, Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said; "Oh! for ane I'll get better, it's waur I'll get ten— I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen."
Neist time that the Laird and the lady were seen, They were gaun arm and arm to the kirk on the green: Now she sits in the ha' like a weel-tappit hen, But as yet there's nae chickens appear'd at Cockpen.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Land o' Bonnets Blue

The Land o’ Bonnets Blue.
[This song, to the tune of "Whistle o'er the lave o't," was written by a Scottish clergyman at Liverpool many years ago, and sung at an anniversary dinner held there in commemoration of the birth-day of Robert Burns.]
Noo, by my troth, ilk brither dear, I trow ye re a' right welcome here; We'll prove to mirth our title clear, But winna prove the slave o't. Here's to the land o' bonnets blue, Tartan kilts and tarry woo'; O for a waught o' mountain dew, To toast the guid and brave o't.
Dowf and dowie be his lot, Whae'er denies a brither Scot, Wi' helping han' to share a groat, If want should roak' him crave o't. Here's to the land, &c.
As for the honest feeling heart, May poortith never mak' it smart; But heaven its best o' bliss impart, As muckle's he would have o't. Here's to the land, &c.
The war'ly wretch may fume and fret, And grip and pinch baith air and late; But what o' earth at last he'll get Will only be a grave o't. Here's to the land, &c.
May we, when eild shall bleach our crown White as our native thistle's down, Mount high to life and light aboon, There to enjoy the lave o't. Here's to the land, &c.
Then fill a bowl, and while we drink, Well rivet closer friendship's link, Till joys run ower, and cares deep sink Beneath the whirling wave o't. Here's to the land, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Social Cup 1

The Social Cup.
[Charles Gray.—Tune, "Andro and his cutty gun."—The Auld-Kirk-Latch, mentioned in the fourth verse, is situated near Anstruther, in Fife, the residence of the author when the song was composed.—This is the earliest version.]
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we, Blythe are we, aue and a'; Aften ha'e we canty been, But sic a nicht we never saw.
The gloamin' saw us a' sit down, And mickle mirth has been our fa'; But ca' the other toast aroun', Till chanticleer begins to craw.
The auld kirk bell has chappit twal Wha cares though she had chappit twa! We're licht o' heart, and winna part, Though time and tide should rin awa'.
Tut! never speir how wears the morn, The moon's still blinkin' i' the sky; And, gif like her we fill our horn, I dinna doubt we'll drink it dry.
Should we gang by the Auld-Kirk-Latch, Or round the haunted humlock knowe, Auld Clootie there some chield might catch, Or fleg us wi' a worricow!
Then fill us up a social cup, And never mind the dapple dawn; Just sit a while, the sun may smile, And light us a' across the lawn.