OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems (David)/Legend of the Border Knight

LEGEND OF THE BORDER KNIGHT.
The Legend thus named is merely a creation of the fancy. The "oak tree," and "dell," are of course as imaginary. The Legend runs thus: "Sir Jasper Leslie, the only heir to the castle of that name, is implored by his mother to maintain a feud, in which his father has been killed, and to seek out and revenge his death. This, Jasper promises, and wishing to know the turn of his fortune, seeks the guardian spirit of the family. From her he learns that the 'battle cry' must arise three times before his rival, Sir Lionel Gray, will fall by his hand. She then shows him the fate of the castle in a vision; and gives him a black steed, named Hilderbrand. The horse is spirit born, and bound by a spell, which is broken if the reins are severed; and which will place him in the hands of his rival. While ​returning, his attention is attracted to a gleam of light, which on his gaining the river's ford, proves to be the burning of Leslie Castle. An aeriel voice tells him that the 'battle cry' has arisen once. Sir Jasper then wanders about as a knight errant for some time, and after a meeting with his rival, in which he spares his life, having disarmed him, he marries by the directions of the sprite, a young girl, named Eveline. A year and a day after, a border raid having been made on the lands of Sir Jasper, (the castle having been rebuilt by the means of the sprite,) he, according to the manner of the times, went forth to give the marauders battle. While on his way, they encounter by a woodland burn, a blind minstrel and his son; their assistance having been asked, Sir Jasper advances to the old man, but he is unfortunately dead. His son, Wilfrid, follows Sir Jasper, who soon after intercepts the objects of his pursuit. Sir Lionel is taken by surprise, and attacked by Jasper; a blow from Sir Lionel Gray, in answer to Jasper's charge, cuts the golden bridle; the spell is broken, and Jasper is thrown to the earth, and at the mercy of his rival, when his life is saved by the minstrel's son! None except Sir Jasper escape from the field; and on his return, suddenly hears the cry of a white doe, which the sprite has ​fortold as the cause of the fall of him and his horse. Impelled by fate, he follows her, and finding a golden bow and silver arrow, under the branches of the haunted oak tree (which she has gained) takes aim, and the doe falls dead at the foot of the fatal tree. In an instant the noble tree is shattered, and the aeriel voice is heard, calling the guardian spirit of the house of Leslie. Sir Jasper is doomed to wander, until at the river's ford, he shall see drinking a white stag. Still some say the shade of Sir Jasper Leslie is seen, and when the fallen leaves of Autumn are lying on the ground, the phantom voice is heard calling in the groves near by, and the glitter of his mail is seen in the bright moonlight."
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Fragment from Julius Caesar

Excerpt from Julius Caesar
A Fragment from Mark Antony's Speech.
This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar; He only, in a general honest thought ​And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle; and the elements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, "This was a man!"
Shakespeare ("Julius Cæsar").
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Happy Life

A Happy Life.
How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his master's are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame, or private breath.
Sir Henry Wotton.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Chrysalis

A Chrysalis.
"A Chrysalis" is a favourite poem with John Burroughs, and is found, too, in Stedman's collection. We all come to a point in life where we need to burst the shell and fly away into the new realm. (1835-98.)
My little Mädchen found one day A curious something in her play, That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed; It was not anything that grew, Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew; Had neither legs nor wings, indeed; And yet she was not sure, she said, Whether it was alive or dead.
She brought it in her tiny hand To see if I would understand, And wondered when I made reply, "You've found a baby butterfly." "A butterfly is not like this," With doubtful look she answered me. So then I told her what would be Some day within the chrysalis:
​How, slowly, in the dull brown thing Now still as death, a spotted wing, And then another, would unfold, Till from the empty shell would fly A pretty creature, by and by, All radiant in blue and gold.
"And will it, truly?" questioned she— Her laughing lips and eager eyes All in a sparkle of surprise— "And shall your little Mädchen see?" "She shall!" I said. How could I tell That ere the worm within its shell Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread, My little Mädchen would be dead?
To-day the butterfly has flown,— She was not here to see it fly,— And sorrowing I wonder why The empty shell is mine alone. Perhaps the secret lies in this: I too had found a chrysalis, And Death that robbed me of delight Was but the radiant creature's flight!
Mary Emily Bradley.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Farewell

A Farewell.
"A Farewell," by Charles Kingsley (1819-75), makes it seem worth while to be good.
My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray; Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand, sweet song.
Charles Kingsley.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Life on the Ocean Wave

A Life on the Ocean Wave.
"A Life on the Ocean Wave," by Epes Sargent (1813-80), gives the swing and motion of the water of the great ocean. Children remember it almost unconsciously after hearing it read several times.
A life on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep, Where the scattered waters rave, And the winds their revels keep! Like an eagle caged, I pine On this dull, unchanging shore: Oh! give me the flashing brine, The spray and the tempest's roar!
​Once more on the deck I stand Of my own swift-gliding craft: Set sail! farewell to the land! The gale follows fair abaft. We shoot through the sparkling foam Like an ocean-bird set free;— Like the ocean-bird, our home We'll find far out on the sea.
The land is no longer in view, The clouds have begun to frown; But with a stout vessel and crew, We'll say, Let the storm come down! And the song of our hearts shall be, While the winds and the waters rave, A home on the rolling sea! A life on the ocean wave!
Epes Sargent.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Boy's Song

A Boy's Song.
"A Boy's Song," by James Hogg (1770-1835), is a sparkling poem, very attractive to children.
Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.
​Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me.
Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to trace the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me.
Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free, That's the way for Billy and me.
Why the boys should drive away, Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell.
But this I know, I love to play, Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me.
James Hogg.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/A Dream

A Dream.
Once a dream did wave a shade O'er my angel-guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way When on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, 'wildered, and forlorn, Dark, benighted, travel-worn, Over many a tangled spray, All heart-broke, I heard her say:
"Oh, my children! do they cry? Do they hear their father sigh? Now they look abroad to see, Now return and weep for me."
Pitying, I dropped a tear; But I saw a glow-worm near, Who replied, "What wailing wight Calls the watchman of the night?
"I am set to light the ground While the beetle goes his round. Follow now the beetle's hum— Little wanderer, hie thee home!"
William Blake.
# Poems (Dorr)/The Painter's Prayer

"NEC ME PRAETERMITTAS, DOMINE!"
# Poems (Dorr)/The Legend of the Baboushka

LATER POEMS
# Poetical Works of John Oldham/An Ode for an Anniversary of Music on St. Cecilia's Day

AN ODE FOR AN ANNIVERSARY OF MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
I
Tune the voice, and tune the flute,
Touch the silent sleeping lute,
And make the strings to their own measures dance.
Bring gentlest thoughts, that into language glide,
Bring softest words, that into numbers slide;
Let every hand, and every tongue.
To make the noble concert throng.
Let all in one harmonious note agree
To frame the mighty song,
For this is music's sacred jubilee.
2
And break the yielding air,
The ravished sense how pleasingly they wound,
And call the listening soul into the ear;
Each pulse beats time, and every heart
With tongue and fingers bears a part.
By harmony's entrancing power,
When we are thus wound up to ecstasy,
Methinks we mount, methinks we tower,
And seem to antedate our future bliss on high.
3
But for the charm that music lends!
How faint its pleasures would appear,
But for the pleasure which our art attends!
Without the sweets of melody,
To tune our vital breath, Who would not give it up to death,
And in the silent grave contented lie?
4
The softest remedy that grief can find;
The gentle spell that charms our care to rest,
And calms the ruffled passions of the mind.
Music does all our joy refine,
It gives the relish to our wine,
'Tis that gives rapture to our love,
And wings devotion to a pitch divine;
'Tis our chief bliss on earth, and half our heaven above.
CHORUS.
The praises of our art let's sing;
Let's sing to blest Cecilia's fame,
That graced this art, and gave this day its name;
With music, wine, and mirth conspire
To bear a concert, and make up the choir.
# Poetical Works of John Oldham/Complaining of Absence

COMPLAINING OF ABSENCE.
TEN days (if I forget not) wasted are
(A year in any lover's calendar)
Since I was forced to part, and bid adieu
To all my joy and happiness in you:
And still by the same hindrance am detained,
Which me at first from your loved sight constrained:
Oft I resolve to meet my bliss, and then
My tether stops, and pulls me back again:
So when our raisèd thoughts to heaven aspire,
Earth stifles them, and chokes the good desire.
Curse on that man whom business first designed,
And by't enthralled a freedom lover's mind!
A curse on fate who thus subjected me,
And made me slave to any thing but thee!
Lovers should be as unconfined as air,
Free as its wild inhabitants from care:
So free those happy lovers are above.
Exempt from all concerns but those of love:
But I, poor lover militant below, The cares and troubles of dull life must know;
Must toil for that which does on others wait,
And undergo the drudgery of fate.
Yet I'll no more to her a vassal be, Thou now shalt make and rule my destiny:
Hence troublesome fatigues! all business hence!
This very hour my freedom shall commence:
Too long that jilt has thy proud rival been,
And made me by neglectful absence sin;
But I'll no more obey its tyranny,
Nor that, nor fate itself shall hinder me, Henceforth from seeing and enjoying thee.
# Police Jury v. Britton

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
82 U.S. 566
Police Jury v. Britton
ERROR to the Circuit Court for the District of Louisiana.
Messrs. E. T. Merrick and G. W. Race, for the plaintiff in error; Messrs. T. J. Semmes and W. A. Meloy, contra.
Mr. Justice BRADLEY stated the case, and delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Poems (McDonald)/Tasso's Crown

TASSO'S CROWN.
"It was resolved, that the greatest living poet of Italy should be crowned with the laurelin the imperial city, as Petrarch had been more than two hundred and fifty years before.The decree to that effect was passed by the Pope and the Senate; but ere the day of triumph came, Tasso was seized with an illness, which he instantly felt would be mortal. At his own request, he was immediately conveyed to the neighbouring Monastery of St. Onofario, where, surrounded by the consolations of that faith which had been through life his constant support, be patiently awaited what he firmly believed would be the issue of his malady. He expired in the arms of Cardinal Ciutbio Aldohrandini. The Cardinal had brought him the Pope's benediction; on receiving which, he exclaimed, 'This is the crown with which I hope to be crowned, not as a poet in the capital, but with the glory of the blessed in heaven.'"
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 36/December 1889/Obituary Notes

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Mr. C. Spence Bate, a British authority on crustaceans, has recently died at Plymouth. He was the author of a report on a class of crustaceans collected by the Challenger Expedition; of a catalogue of certain crustaceans in the British Museum; of a "History of British Sessile-eyed Crustaceans"; and of a work on the "Pathology of Dental Caries."
Prof. George H. Cook, of Rutgers College, and State Geologist of New Jersey, died at New Brunswick, in that State, September 22d, in the seventy-third year of his age. He was born at Hanover, N. J.; became a civil engineer in 1836; laid out the line of the Catskill and Canajoharic Railroad; was graduated from Troy Polytechnic Institute in 1839; was made senior professor in that institution in 1840; became Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in Albany Academy in 1842; Principal of the Academy in 1858; Professor of Chemistry and Natural Philosophy in Rutgers College in 1852; Assistant Geologist of New Jersey in the next year, and State Geologist in 1864, when he was also made Vice-President of the State Scientific College. He was actively connected with the State Board of Agriculture; became Director of the State Weather Service; visited Europe three times on scientific errands; and was associated with many public enterprises.
Prof. Leo Lesquereux, the eminent botanist and paleontologist, died at Columbus, Ohio, October 25th, in the eighty-fourth year of his age. He was a native of Switzerland, was a friend of Guyot and Agassiz, and came to the United States in 1848. He was the author of nearly fifty scientific works; and in his special field of study he ranked with Oswald Heer. A sketch of his life and works, accompanied by a portrait and a list of his writings, was published in "The Popular Science Monthly" for April, 1887.
Dr. James Prescott Joule, F.R.S., the discoverer of the mechanical equivalent of heat, died at Sale, near Manchester, England, October 11th. He was the son of a brewer in Salford, and was born in 1818. His first contribution to scientific literature was made when he was about twenty years old, in a paper describing an electro-magnetic engine. His great discovery was made after patient, independent investigation and experiment, with extremely simple apparatus constructed by himself. He constructed electro-magnets of greater carrying power than any previously known; devised electro-magnetic engines and new forms of galvanometers; measured the heat evolved by the passage of electricity through mechanical conductors; and determined the ratio between chemical and thermal energy. A sketch of his life and a portrait were given in "The Popular Science Monthly" for May, 1874.
# Poems (Storrie)/An Empty Glass

| Hortense Terry | - Once a trained nurse. |
| Mabel Frere | - Trained nurse. |
| Max Arnold | - Barrister. |
| Rose Arnold | - His wife. |
Scene I.
[Hortense Terry, seated alone in sitting-room of a Woman's Club. She is a tall, handsome woman, elegantly dressed. She paces the floor restlessly, then takes up a pen to continue some correspondence. Throws it down suddenly and recommences pacing to and fro.]
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 41/May 1892/Notes

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Involuntary Movements.—The article on Involuntary Movements, by Prof. Jastrow, published in the April number, will appear in a more extended form in the forthcoming issue of the American Journal of Psychology.
A promising account is given of the copper mines of French Congo. They lie in the district around the source of the Ludima-Niadi, about two days south of Stéphanieville. The ore, a malachite, is brought to the surface by about three hundred and fifty negroes, whose methods of work are extremely simple. They reach the mineral by digging out, with implements of hard wood, holes or shafts three feet wide and twice as deep. The malachite is broken on the ground, and afterward when pulverized is put into a furnace on a tray with charcoal, ​on which bellows are made to play. In due time the tray is removed by means of pieces of bamboo and the metal is poured into sand molds. The entire district is said to be rich in copper, and masses of malachite are frequently found in the Ludima.
It has been shown by Mr. Aitken that the presence of dust, affording a free surface on which vapor may condense, is essential to the production of fog. The specific action of the dust varies considerably according to its composition and to the size and abundance of the particles present. Sulphur burned in the air is an active fog-producer; so are salt and hygroscopic bodies generally. Non-hygroscopic bodies also produce it, especially if they are good radiators of heat. The exceedingly minute amount of matter capable of inducing fog is a noticeable feature in the investigation. The condensation of moisture upon dust offers an effective process for removing all kinds of impurities from the air, for the floaticles are weighted by the moisture settling upon them.
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 47/August 1895/To Barbara

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* TO BÁRBARA.
(A Study in Heredity.)
By DAVID STARR JORDAN.
LITTLE lady, cease your play For a moment, if you may; Come to me, and tell me true Whence those black eyes came to you.
Father's eyes are granite gray, And your mother's, Bárbara, Black as the obsidian stone, With a luster all their own. How should one so small as you Learn to choose between the two?
* If through father's eyes you look,
* Nature seems an open book—
* All her secrets written clear
* On her pages round you, dear.
* Better yet than this may be
* If through mother's eyes you see;
* Theirs to read—a finer art—
* Deep down in the human heart.
* How should one so small as you
* Choose so well between the two?
* Hide your face behind your fan,
* Little black-eyed Puritan;
* Peer across its edge at me
* In demurest coquetry,
* Like some Doña Plácida,
* Not the Puritan you are.
Subtle sorcery there lies
In the glances of your eyes,
Calling forth, from out the vast
Vaults of the forgotten past,
Pictures dim and far away
From the full life of to-day,
Like the figures that we see
Wrought in ancient tapestry.
This the vision comes to me:
Sheer rock rising from the sea,
Wind-riven, harsh, and vertical,
To a gray old castle wall;
Waving palms upon its height,
At its feet the breakers white,
Chasing o'er an emerald bay,
Like a flock of swans that play;
Tile-roofed houses of the town,
From the hills, slow-creeping down;
Rocks and palms and castle wall,
Emerald seas that rise and fall,
Golden haze and glittering blue— What is all of this to you?
Only this, perchance it be,
Each has left its trace in thee;
Only this, that Love is strong,
And the arm of Fate is long.
Deeply hidden in your eyes,
Undeciphered histories,
Graven in the ages vast,
Lie there to be read at last:
Graven deep, they must be true;
Shall I read them unto you?
Once a man, now faint and dim
With the centuries over him,
Wandered from an ancient town,
On its hills slow-creeping down,
O'er the ocean, bold and free,
Roved in careless errantry.
With Vizcaino had he fared,
And his strange adventures dared;
Restless ever, drifting on,
Far as foot of man had gone;
On his cheek the salt that clings
To the Headland of the Kings,
Flung from the enchanted sea
Of Saint Francis Assisi!
Rover o'er the ocean blue— What has he to do with you?
Only this: he sailed one day
To your Massachusetts Bay,
And this voyage was his last,
For Love seized and held him fast.
Of that old romance of his
None can tell you more than this;
Saving that, as legacies
To his child, he left his eyes,
Black as the obsidian stone,
With a luster all their own,
Seeing as by magic ken
Deep into the hearts of men.
And mid tides of changing years,
Dreams and hopes and cares and fears,
Life that flows and ebbs alway,
Love has kept them loyally.
Once, it chanced, they came to shine,
Straight into this heart of mine.
Little lady, cease your play
For a moment, if you may;
All I ask is, silently,
Turn your mother's eyes on me!
* Consulado Ingles, Calle de las Olas Altas, Mazatlan, Sinaloa,
* January 10, 1895.
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 62

Scans
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# Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne/Harvest Hymn

HARVEST HYMN.
Now Autumn strews on every plain His mellow fruits and fertile grain; And laughing Plenty crown'd with sheaves, With purple grapes, and spreading leaves, In rich profusion pours around, Her flowing treasures on the ground.
Oh! mark the great, the liberal hand, That scatters blessings o'er the land; And to the God of Nature raise The grateful song, the hymn of praise.
The infant corn in vernal hours, He nurtur'd with his gentle showers, And bade the summer clouds diffuse Their balmy store of genial dews. He mark'd the tender stem arise, Till ripen'd by the glowing skies; And now matur'd, his work behold, The cheering harvest waves in gold. To nature's God with joy we raise The grateful song, the hymn of praise.
The vallies echo to the strains Of blooming maids, and village swains; To Him they tune the lay sincere, Whose bounty crowns the smiling year. The sounds from every woodland borne, The sighing winds that bend the corn, The yellow fields around proclaim His mighty everlasting name. To nature's God united raise The grateful song, the hymn of praise.
# Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne/Invocation to the Fairies

INVOCATION TO THE FAIRIES.
FOR MY SISTER’S GROTTO.
Fays and Fairies haste away! This is Harriet's holiday: Bring the lyre, and bring the lute, Bring the sweetly-breathing flute; Wreaths of cowslips hither bring, All the honours of the spring; Adorn the grot with all that's gay, Fays and Fairies haste away.
Bring the vine to Bacchus dear, Bring the purple lilac here, Festoons of roses, sweetest flower, The yellow primrose of the bower, Blue-ey'd violets wet with dew, Bring the clustering woodbine too. Bring in baskets made of rush, The cherry with its ripen'd blush, The downy peach, so soft so fair, The luscious- grape, the mellow pear: These to Harriet hither bring, And sweetly in return she'll sing. Be the brilliant grotto scene The palace of the Fairy Queen. Form the sprightly circling dance, Fairies here your steps advance; To the harp's soft dulcet sound, Let your footsteps lightly bound. Unveil your forms to mortal eye; Let Harriet view your revelry.
# Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne/Jeu d'Esprit

JEU D’ESPRIT.
Fancy lend thy magic aid, Let me draw a heavenly maid. Bring the azure of the sky, For the fair one's lovely eye; Join the rose-bud's damask glow To the lustre of the snow; Juno's dignity of mien, Venus' smile and look serene; Taste and genius to excel; All that fabling poets tell Of the Goddesses divine, The Graces, or the Sister Nine; Native elegance refin'd, Lovely person, lovely mind: To these add candour, pity, truth, All that can embellish youth. Now the finished picture see, Sportive Fancy's jeu d’esprit.