OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/When we were at the Schule

When we were at the Schule.
[The author of this song has kept his name from the public.—Air, "There's nae luck about the house."]
The laddies plague me for a sang, I een maun play the fule, I'll sing them ane about the days When we were at the schule. Though now the frosty pow is seen Whaur ance wav'd gowden hair; An' mony a blythsome heart is cauld Sin' first we sported there. When we were at the schule, my frien', When we were at the schule; An' O sae merry pranks we play'd, When we were at the schule.
Yet muckle Jock is to the fore That used our lugs to pu', An' Rob the pest, an' Sugar Pouch, An' canny Davie Dow. O do ye mind the maister's hat, Sae auld, sae bare an' brown, We carried to the burnie's side An' sent it soomin' down? When we, &c.
We thocht how clever a' was plann'd, When, whatna voice was that? A head is raised aboon the hedge,— "I'll thank ye for my hat!" O weel I mind our hingin' lugs,— Our het an' tinglin' paws,— O well I mind his awfu' look, An' weel I mind his taws! When we, &c.
O do ye mind the countin' time, How watchfu' he has lain, To catch us steal frae ither's slates An' jot it on our ain? An' how we fear'd at writin' hour His glunches an' his glooms, How mony times a day he said, Our fingers a' were thooms? When we, &c.
I'll ne'er forget the day ye stood, ('Twas manfu' like), yoursel', An' took the pawmies an' the shame To save wee Johnnie Bell; The maister fand it out belyve, He took ye on his knee, An' as he gaz'd into your face, The tear was in his e'e. When we, &c.
But mind ye, lad, yon afternoon How fleet ye skipp'd awa', For ye had crack't auld Jenny's pane When playin' at the ba'. Nae pennies had we: Jenny grat;— It cut us to the core; Ye took yere mither's hen at nicht An' left it at her door When we, &c.
An' sic a steer as granny made, When talepyet Jamie Rae We dookit roarin' at the pump, Syne row'd him down the brae. But how the very maister leuch When leein' sadler Wat, Cam' in an' threept that cripple Tam Had chas'd an' kill'd his cat. When we, &c.
Ah, laddies, ye may wink awa'! Truth maunna aye be tauld, I fear the schules o' modern days Are just siclike's the auld. An' are na we but laddies yet, An' get the name o' men? How sweet at ane's fireside to live The happy days again; When we were at the schule, my frien', When we were at the schule, An' fling the snawba's owre again We flang when at the schule.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Where Quair rins sweet

Where Quair rins sweet.
[Rev. James Nicol.—Mr. Nicol, the author of "Halucket Meg," and other songs given in this work, was born at Inverleithen, Peebleshire, on the 28th of September, 1769, and died at the manse of Traquair 5th November, 1819, in the fiftieth year of his age. Having officiated as tutor in various respectable families, he eventually succeeded to the parish of Traquair in the year 1802, on the death of the Rev. Mr. Walker, whose sister he married. Mr. Nicol was a kind amiable man, and much respected by all who knew him; he had a fine appreciation of the beauties of nature, and marked human character with a keen eye. In 1805, he published two volumes of poetry, which are well worthy of perusal; and, during the course of the publication of "The Edinburgh Encyclopedia," contributed various short articles, which are known by the signature of (N). The following song was one of his earliest productions, and was addressed to the lady who afterwards became his wife.]
Where Quair rins sweet amang the flowers, Down by yon woody glen, lassie, My cottage stands—it shall be yours, Gin ye will be my ain, lassie. ​I'll watch ye wi' a lover's care, And wi' a lover's e'e, lassie I'll weary heaven wi' mony a prayer, And ilka prayer for thee, lassie.
'Tis true I ha'e na mickle gear; My stock it's unco sma', lassie; Nae fine-spun foreign claes I wear, Nor servants tend my ca', lassie.
But had I heir'd the British crown, And thou o' low degree, lassie, A rustic lad I wad ha'e grown, Or shared that crown wi' thee, lassie.
Whenever absent frae thy sight, Nae pleasure smiles on me, lassie; I climb the mountain's towering height, And cast a look to thee, lassie.
I blame the blast blaws on thy cheek; The flower that decks thy hair, lassie, The gales that steal thy breath sae sweet, My love and envy share, lassie.
If for a heart that glows for thee, Thou wilt thy heart resign, lassie, Then come, my Nancy, come to me— That glowing heart is mine, lassie.
Where Quair rins sweet amang the flowers, Down by yon woody glen, lassie, My cottage stands—it shall be yours, Gin ye will be my ain, lassie.
# The Book of Scottish Song/When life was gay

When life was gay.
[Tune, "My only jo and dearie, O."]
When life was gay, an' hope was young, Nae cares to mak' me eerie, O, By birken shaw I sat an' sung, An' tuned my pipe fa' cheerie, O; Nae birdie, singin' frae the tree, Was hauf sae blythe, sae gay as me, Till tost upon life's troubled sea, I traversed lang an' wearie, O.
How changed were then the lightsome hours, When beat my heart sae rarely, O, When far frae Clutha's sylvan bowers, Misfortune skelpt me sairly, O.— ​I sought the long embattled line, Eager in glory's path to shine— But dool cam' owre the hapless time I yielded to the fairlie, O.
But sin' the dearest bliss o' man, That wyles our way sae drearie, O, The brawest lass in a' the lan', Smiles on me kind an' cheerie,; Contented wi' my peacefu' lot, My sorrows now are a' forgot; An' monie mae I wad bear for't, If blest wi' thee, my dearie, O!
O woman, man's delight an' care! The sweetest pride o' nature, O, Reposes on her bosom fair, Sits smilin' on ilk feature, O! Man may be bold, he may be strong, May figure through life's chequer'd throng, But still the bard, in deathless song, The chief o' warks will rate her, O!
# The Book of Scottish Song/When the kye come hame

When the kye come hame.
[This spirited song by the Ettrick Shepherd first appeared in his novel entitled "The Three Perils of Man," 1821, 3 vols. It is sung to the old tune of "The Blathrie o't."]
Come all ye jolly shepherds That whistle through the glen, I'll tell ye of a secret That courtiers dinna ken. What is the greatest bliss That the tongue o' man can name? 'Tis to woo a bonnie lassie When the kye come hame. When the kye come hame, When the kye come hame, 'Tween the gloamin and the mirk, When the kye come hame.
'Tis not beneath the burgonet, Nor yet beneath the crown, 'Tis not on couch of velvet, Nor yet on bed of down: 'Tis beneath the spreading birch, In the dell without a name, Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame.
There the blackbird bigs his nest For the mate he loves to see, And up upon the tapmost bough, Oh, a happy bird is he! Then he pours his melting ditty, And love 'tis a' the theme, And he'll woo his bonnie lassie When the kye come hame.
When the bluart bears a pearl, And the daisy turns a pea, And the bonnie lucken gowan Has fauld it up his e'e, Then the laverock frae the blue lift Draps down, and thinks nae shame To woo his bonnie lassie When the kye come hame.
Then the eye shines sae bright, The haill soul to beguile, There's love in every whisper, And joy in evety smile; O, who would choose a crown, Wi' its perils and its fame, And miss a bonnie lassie When the kye come hame?
See yonder pawky shepherd
That lingers on the hill—
His yowes are in the fauld, And his lambs are lying still; Yet he downa gang to rest, For his heart is in a flame, To meet his bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame.
Awa' wi' fame and fortune— What comfort can they gi'e— And a' the arts that prey On man's life and libertie! Gi'e me the highest joy That the heart o' man can frame, My bonnie, bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame.
# The Book of Scottish Song/When we two parted

When we two parted.
[Air, "When Januar' winds were blawing."]
When we two parted, on thy cheek The young moon-beam fell soft and meek, And the flower was budding on the lea, When last I breathed "Farewell to thee."
But thou wert number'd with the dead, Before that moon had wax'd and fled; And ere the flower had lost its bloom, The midnight dews were on thy tomb.
I saw thee not in that last hour Which gave thee to the victor's power, Nor heard the last recorded sigh That 'scaped thee in thine agony.
When thou wert borne upon thy bier, I was not with the mourners near! Where tears and dust were strew'd o'er thee. Alas that was no place for me!
The warmest heart that ever beat Lies cold beneath the winding-sheet! The fairest form earth ever knew, Is vanish'd like the morning dew.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Where Gadie rins

Where Gadie rins.
[From "Poems and Songs, by John Imlah," London, 1841, 12mo.—Gadie is a rivulet, and Bennachie a mountain, in Aberdeenshire.]
O! gin I were where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins—where Gadie rins, O gin I were where Gadie rins, By the foot o' Bennachie!
I've roam'd by Tweed—I've roam'd by Tay, By border Nith and highland Spey, But dearer far to me than they, The braes o' Bennachie.
When blade and blossoms sprout in spring, And bid the burdies wag the wing, They blithely bob, and soar, and sing, By the foot o' Bennachie.
When simmer cleeds the varied scene, Wi' licht o' gowd and leaves o' green, I fain wad be where aft I've been, At the foot o' Bennachie.
When autumn's yellow sheaf is shorn, And barn-yards stored wi' stooks o' corn, 'Tis blythe to toom the clyack horn, At the foot o' Bennachie!
When winter winds blaw sharp and shrill, O'er icy burn and sheeted hill, The ingle neuk is gleesome still, At the foot of Bennachie.
Though few to welcome me remain, Though a' I loved be dead and gane, I'll back, though I should live alane, To the foot of Bennachie.
O! gin I wers where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins — where Gadie rins,
O! gin I were where Gadie rins, By the foot o' Bennachie!
# The Book of Scottish Song/When lonely thou wander'st

When lonely thou wander'st.
[From "The "Witches of Keil's Glen, a Dramatic Fragment, with other Poems, by David Arnott," printed at Cupar in Fifeshire in 1825. Mr. Arnott is now a clergyman in Dundee.]
When lonely thou wanderest along by the wild wood, As twilight steals over the earth like a dream; An' nature, all lovely as when in her childhood, On thy heart and thine eye in beauty may beam. When over the world the grey shades are returning, And the star of the evening all silent is burning, With splendour celestial the heavens adorning, And thy soul is enraptured by ecstacy's gleam.
Then think of thy lover who sigheth in sadness, When viewing that star as he wanders alone, Which once to his soul was the emblem of gladness, As thy faithful bosom he rested upon. Oh! think of the woes on his heart that are preying, And think of that love that can know no decaying, And, oh! may that breast never dream of betraying The youth it has blest in the days that are gone.
# The Book of Scottish Song/When summer's sun

When summer’s sun.
When summer's sun shone warm and bright, "And saft the westlan' breezes blew," As fair a maiden met my sight As ever poet's fancy drew. 'Twas on the banks of Locher's stream, Where roses bloom'd in a' their pride, I saw this lass—so fair her mein— She might ha'e been a monarch's bride.
Though violets there did flourish fair, An' on their blades hung draps o' dew; These sparkling gems outrivalled were By "her twa een sae bonnie blue." Her lovely eyes' resplendent beam, Was far too bright for me to bear: I turned, abashed, and in the stream Beheld her form, divinely fair. ​A zephyr gently curled the stream, An' did her lovely image hide; Then all the osier boughs would seem Bending to her by Locher's side. When I beheld a' nature pay Such homage to this charming maid, I deem'd she might be Queen of May— Had come to visit Locher's shade.
I'd made a garland for her breast, Of every wild flower I could view: But could nae mair her charms resist; So silently from her withdrew. My soul a moment's pleasure knew; I fear the like will ne'er return; Except, when spring the fields renew, I meet this lass by Locher burn.
# The Confessions of Saint Augustine (Outler)/Book II/Chapter VIII

What fruit had I then (wretched man!) in those things, of the remembrance whereof I am now ashamed? Especially, in that theft which I loved for the theft's sake; and it too was nothing, and therefore the more miserable I, who loved it. Yet alone I had not done it: such was I then, I remember, alone I had never done it. I loved then in it also the company of the accomplices, with whom I did it? I did not then love nothing else but the theft, yea rather I did love nothing else; for that circumstance of the company was also nothing. What is, in truth? who can teach me, save He that enlighteneth my heart, and discovereth its dark corners? What is it which hath come into my mind to enquire, and discuss, and consider? For had I then loved the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have done it alone, had the bare commission of the theft sufficed to attain my pleasure; nor needed I have inflamed the itching of my desires by the excitement of accomplices. But since my pleasure was not in those pears, it was in the offence itself, which the company of fellow-sinners occasioned.
# The Confessions of Saint Augustine (Outler)/Book II/Chapter IX

What then was this feeling? For of a truth it was too foul: and woe was me, who had it. But yet what was it? Who can understand his errors? It was the sport, which as it were tickled our hearts, that we beguiled those who little thought what we were doing, and much disliked it. Why then was my delight of such sort that I did it not alone? Because none doth ordinarily laugh alone? ordinarily no one; yet laughter sometimes masters men alone and singly when on one whatever is with them, if anything very ludicrous presents itself to their senses or mind. Yet I had not done this alone; alone I had never done it. Behold my God, before Thee, the vivid remembrance of my soul; alone, I had never committed that theft wherein what I stole pleased me not, but that I stole; nor had it alone liked me to do it, nor had I done it. O friendship too unfriendly! thou incomprehensible inveigler of the soul, thou greediness to do mischief out of mirth and wantonness, thou thirst of others' loss, without lust of my own gain or revenge: but when it is said, "Let's go, let's do it," we are ashamed not to be shameless.
# The Confessions of Saint Augustine (Outler)/Book II/Chapter X

Who can disentangle that twisted and intricate knottiness? Foul is it: I hate to think on it, to look on it. But Thee I long for, O Righteousness and Innocency, beautiful and comely to all pure eyes, and of a satisfaction unsating. With Thee is rest entire, and life imperturbable. Whoso enters into Thee, enters into the joy of his Lord: and shall not fear, and shall do excellently in the All-Excellent. I sank away from Thee, and I wandered, O my God, too much astray from Thee my stay, in these days of my youth, and I became to myself a barren land.
# The Confessions of Saint Augustine (Outler)/Book II/Chapter IV

Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and the law written in the hearts of men, which iniquity itself effaces not. For what thief will abide a thief? not even a rich thief, one stealing through want. Yet I lusted to thieve, and did it, compelled by no hunger, nor poverty, but through a cloyedness of well-doing, and a pamperedness of iniquity. For I stole that, of which I had enough, and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy what I stole, but joyed in the theft and sin itself. A pear tree there was near our vineyard, laden with fruit, tempting neither for colour nor taste. To shake and rob this, some lewd young fellows of us went, late one night (having according to our pestilent custom prolonged our sports in the streets till then), and took huge loads, not for our eating, but to fling to the very hogs, having only tasted them. And this, but to do what we liked only, because it was misliked. Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity upon in the bottom of the bottomless pit. Now, behold, let my heart tell Thee what it sought there, that I should be gratuitously evil, having no temptation to ill, but the ill itself. It was foul, and I loved it; I loved to perish, I loved mine own fault, not that for which I was faulty, but my fault itself. Foul soul, falling from Thy firmament to utter destruction; not seeking aught through the shame, but the shame itself!
# The Confessions of Saint Augustine (Outler)/Book II/Chapter VII

What shall I render unto the Lord, that, whilst my memory recalls these things, my soul is not affrighted at them? I will love Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name; because Thou hast forgiven me these so great and heinous deeds of mine. To Thy grace I ascribe it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted away my sins as it were ice. To Thy grace I ascribe also whatsoever I have not done of evil; for what might I not have done, who even loved a sin for its own sake? Yea, all I confess to have been forgiven me; both what evils I committed by my own wilfulness, and what by Thy guidance I committed not. What man is he, who, weighing his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his purity and innocency to his own strength; that so he should love Thee the less, as if he had less needed Thy mercy, whereby Thou remittest sins to those that turn to Thee? For whosoever, called by Thee, followed Thy voice, and avoided those things which he reads me recalling and confessing of myself, let him not scorn me, who being sick, was cured by that Physician, through whose aid it was that he was not, or rather was less, sick: and for this let him love Thee as much, yea and more; since by whom he sees me to have been recovered from such deep consumption of sin, by Him he sees himself to have been from the like consumption of sin preserved.
# The Confessions of Saint Augustine (Outler)/Book II/Chapter V

For there is an attractiveness in beautiful bodies, in gold and silver, and all things; and in bodily touch, sympathy hath much influence, and each other sense hath his proper object answerably tempered. Wordly honour hath also its grace, and the power of overcoming, and of mastery; whence springs also the thirst of revenge. But yet, to obtain all these, we may not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor decline from Thy law. The life also which here we live hath its own enchantment, through a certain proportion of its own, and a correspondence with all things beautiful here below. Human friendship also is endeared with a sweet tie, by reason of the unity formed of many souls. Upon occasion of all these, and the like, is sin committed, while through an immoderate inclination towards these goods of the lowest order, the better and higher are forsaken,- Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For these lower things have their delights, but not like my God, who made all things; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and He is the joy of the upright in heart.
When, then, we ask why a crime was done, we believe it not, unless it appear that there might have been some desire of obtaining some of those which we called lower goods, or a fear of losing them. For they are beautiful and comely; although compared with those higher and beatific goods, they be abject and low. A man hath murdered another; why? he loved his wife or his estate; or would rob for his own livelihood; or feared to lose some such things by him; or, wronged, was on fire to be revenged. Would any commit murder upon no cause, delighted simply in murdering? who would believe it? for as for that furious and savage man, of whom it is said that he was gratuitously evil and cruel, yet is the cause assigned; "lest" (saith he) "through idleness hand or heart should grow inactive." And to what end? that, through that practice of guilt, he might, having taken the city, attain to honours, empire, riches, and be freed from fear of the laws, and his embarrassments from domestic needs, and consciousness of villainies. So then, not even Catiline himself loved his own villainies, but something else, for whose sake he did them.
# The Carnegie Institute and Library of Pittsburgh/Chapter 3

JOHN W. ALEXANDER'S MURAL DECORATIONS
ENTITLED
"THE CROWNING OF LABOR"
BY MRS J. W. ALEXANDER
In undertaking the decorations for the entrance hall of the Carnegie Institute Mr Alexander considered as absolutely essential a subject appropriate to the city of Pittsburgh.
He finally selected as a subject for the entire series "The Crowning of Labor."
The decorations consist of a frieze of fifteen panels surrounding the first floor, a series of large panels at the top of the main staircase and surrounding the gallery of the second floor, twelve panels grouped about the third floor staircase and a completing set of twenty-one panels on the third or top floor which have not yet been placed.
In the panels of the frieze of the first floor the idea has been to show the energy and force of labor. These panels are filled with toiling figures seen in and out of smoke and steam from the furnaces, the immense harnessed energy of which is directed by labor into various useful channels.
From these panels the smoke and steam rise up into the larger panels at the head of the main staircase, where emerges a mailed figure typifying Pittsburgh.
Pittsburgh has been depicted as a knight in steel armor in order to suggest the strength and power of the city. Labor having reached its highest expression, the city is being crowned and heralded by hosts of winged figures blending with the smoke and steam, which have partially dispersed. These figures bear tributes to the city, such as Peace, Prosperity, Luxuries and Education. To the left of the mailed figure the ugliness and impurities roll away in ​clouds of dark vapor twisted into the forms and faces of grotesque demons.
These winged figures appear on all sides of the second floor except in the alcoves, where the panels again represent the energy and power of the city, but differ from the frieze of the first floor, for here we find depicted the high buildings in process of erection, the heavy trains of cars, the boats on the rivers, the blast-furnaces and the hills which are so much a part of Pittsburgh.
At each end of these alcoves high narrow panels, representing men at work against the sky as if at a great elevation, connect the frieze with the larger panels of the second floor.
About the third floor stairway is a series of twelve panels containing nearly four hundred figures which represent the ceaseless, resistless onward movement of the people. In these panels crowds of men, women and children press on toward progress and success. The types selected are the ordinary types of American working people. No effort has been made to idealize them either in dress or feature.
The panels for the third floor are not yet completed, but when finished will represent the result made possible by labor and depict the various arts and sciences represented in the work of the Institute and Library, the study of which uplifts and beautifies life.
# The Carlo Poma

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
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United States Supreme Court
255 U.S. 219
The Carlo Poma
Argued: Jan. 26 and 27, 1920. --- Decided: Feb 28, 1921
Messrs. Oscar R. Houston, of New York City, Harold V. Amberg, of Washington, D. C., and D. Roger Englar, of New York City, for petitioner.
Messrs. Van Vechten Veeder and Charles C. Burlingham, both of New York City, for respondent.
Mr. Justice VAN DEVANTER 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).
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