OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Kashf ul Asrar English Translation with Persian Text/Preface

Kashf-ul-Asrar, literally means “Revelation of The Divine Secrets”. This subtle treatise is a collection of revealed Divine Secrets. This small but great book by the most eminent Saint of Punjab, Pakistan, Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Bahoo is a proof of his literary faculty and command over words in addition to his expertise as a Divine Scholar. The writing style of Hazrat Sultan Bahoo in this book is entirely different from all his other writings. He describes a whole essay in one or two words. This book precisely contains the entire Divine Knowledge specially the knowledge of the access to The Divine World, keeping oneself away from the fraud guides and their deceitful ways. Translating Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Bahoo’s book is an honour granted to me by my Murshid Khadim Sultan-ul-Faqr Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Mohammad Najib-ur-Rehman Madzillah-ul-Aqdus who is the spiritual descendant of Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Bahoo and the 31st Shaikh of his Sarwari Qadri Order. For this translation he provided me the original Persian text of Kashf-ul- Asrar which is a manuscript written by Mohammad Shahbaz in 1341 H(1923 A.D). There is another manuscript available written by Gul Mohammad Sindhi in 1323 H (1905 A.D).
The printed scripts of Kashf-ul-Asrar with Urdu translation are by: 1.K. B. Naseem, first edition published in 1995 2.Faqeer Altaf Hussain of Shahdra, published in 1980 The only English translation of Kashf-ul-Asrar till date is done by Zaheer which he did not do directly from the Persian text but from the Urdu translation of Kashf-ul-Asrar done by K.B Naseem. This English translation is also available on internet but without the original Persian text of Kashf-ul-Asrar. All the books of Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Bahoo contain Divine Message for the whole Ummah of Prophet Mohammad. So it must be transmitted to the Muslim Nation in a language which is commonly understood in the whole world i.e. English. Muslims are facing decline in all the fields of life which is certainly the result of their religious and spiritual downfall. It is need of the time to call them towards the true spirit of Islam, for which Khadim Sultan-ul-Faqr Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Mohammad Najib-ur-Rehman has taken many vital steps. These teachings contain the essence of real Islam and elevate the spiritual level of their readers and followers. Translating Hazrat Sakhi Sultan Bahoo’s books is also a link of this chain. May Allah grant awareness of The Right Path to the readers of this book and create in them The Divine Love and the passion to have The Vision and Closeness of Allah. May this book also become a source for the Seekers of Allah to have Divine Presence and the spiritual presence in The Holy Assembly of Prophet Mohammad.
# Kashf ul Asrar English Translation with Persian Text/Glossary

A Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamat The section of Muslims who follow the Sunnahs of The Holy Prophet completely. All the four schools of thought are included in this section i.e. Hanafi, Maliki, Shafii and Hanbali Alif- Alif- is the first letter of Arabic alphabets and it refers to Ism-e-Allah Arif The Knower of Allah Arif Billah Knower of Allah who has become One with Him Arifeen Plural of Arif Ashiq Divine Lover Auliya Plural of Wali-Perfect Friends of Allah, Saints Autad and Abdal Spiritual ranks of special mystics.
B Baqa Billah Immortal with Allah.
F ana-Fi-Hoo Annihilated in Hoo Fana-Fillah Annihilated in Allah Fana-Fi-Shaikh Annihilation in Murshid Faqeer One who walks the Path of Faqr and reaches closest to Allah by renouncing everything other than Allah. Faqeer-e-Kamil The accomplished Saint who has become One with Allah Faqr The Divine way to have Vision and Closeness of Allah Fuqara Plural of Faqeer.
G Ghaus The Saint of highest level.
H Habs Practice of holding the breath Hadith Saying of The Holy Prophet Haqeeqat The Reality.
Ibr /> Ilm-e-Dawat The knowledge of communicating with the souls of shrines Ism Name Ism-e-Allah Zaat The Personal Name of Allah which represents The Divine Essence. Ism-e-Azam The Greatest Divine Word by saying which, with pure and perfect heart, all the problems are solved and wishes are fulfilled. Mystics say that Ism-e-Azam is Ism-e-Allah Zaat because no word is greater or more powerful than. Ism-e-Faqr The Sacred Name of Faqr Ism-e-Mohammad The Sacred Name of Mohammad.
J Jabrut The connecting world or the world of All Powerful Jamiat Accumulation of all spiritual levels in the inward of a Seeker through which he had passed during his spiritual journey, then he gets ultimate contentment of heart.
K Kalma Tayyaba The Holy creed meaning: There is no one to be worshipped but Allah and Mohammad is His Messenger Kamil Perfect, accomplished Kun FaYakun Allah gives the order of Kun (Be) and it is FaYakun(Done).
M Majlis-e-Mohammadi The Holy Assembly of Prophet Mohammad Malakut The world of non-physical or symbolic forms Marifat The Divine Knowledge Mashooq The Divine Beloved Meraj Ascension to Allah Momin True believers Murshid The Divine Spiritual Guide.
N Nafs Inner baser self Nafs-e-Ammarah The ill commanding self Nafs-e-Lawama The repenting self Nafs-e-Mulhima The inspiring self Nafs-e-Mutmaina The satisfied self Naqsh Impression Nasut The material world of physical bodies Noor Light of Allah.
Q Qutb The pivot of all Saints.
R Rehman Attributive Name of Allah-The Most Compassionate.
S Salat Prayer which is obligatory upon Muslims to be performed five times a day in a particular manner. Shaikh The Divine Guide, synonym for Murshid Shariah Islamic Law Sufi Mystic Sunnah Inward and outward ways of The Holy Prophet.
T Tareeqat Mystic way to Allah, Mysticism Tasawur Contemplation Tauheed Divine Oneness.
U Ummah Nation of a Prophet.
Z Zaat The Divine Essence.
# Jessie the Flower o' Dumblain/Barbara Bell

BARBARA BELL.
Oh! hang this love, it is a serious thing. It begins so many a way; Far better a man in a halter should swing. As look to a lass now-a-day. Were there ever a poor fellow so fix’d as I, Come set you down, the truth I will tell, Far better I’d hmig on yon coddling tree. As the very first time I saw Barbara Bell.
CHORUS.
So right leg, left leg, under leg, over leg, Barbara Bell, my darling.
I being a rake, and not fond of work, I drest myself up to go to Leeds’ fair, With my braw new hat and braw ruffl’d shirt; And dicky the barber shook flour on my hair. These Leeds’ lasses are always for fun, Some drinks cider and some drinks rum. But long-legged Davie he kick’d up a tune, And he capper’d away with Barbara Bell, Chorus, Right leg. &c.
Wha came in but Rob o' the neuk, With Dicky and Sally and twa or three mair, And off my knee they would Barbara take. Says I, why hang it, that is not fair; So Robin he kick d up a dust in a crack,
Sticks and neeves they gade pell mell; Clock faces besides and glasses they broke, ​And they tumbled me over poor Barbara Bell Chorus. So right leg, &c.
Never mind, lass, we'll do well enough yet. For you can both lace, spin, and knit. I'll mend cart geers and follow the plow. And next whitsuntide the world begins. There are some that do call me a gustring fool ; I’ll tarry no longer in the mumps mysel; Up or in bed, at work or at play, I can think on nothing but Barbara Bell. Chorus. So right leg, &c.
Oh late last night I went to see my love, When a’ the auId folks were fast asleep; I off my shoes did softly take, And in at the window did softly peep, And wha did I spy but Walter Lang's lad. And what he was doing I hever will tell; Next Saturday night if l live and be well, I'll wear a red coat for Barbara Bell. Chorus. So right leg, &c.
# Jessie the Flower o' Dumblain/Jessie the Flower o' Dumblain

THE FLOWER O’ DUMBLAIN.
The ſun had gane down o’er the lofty Ben lomond, And left the red cloud to preſide o’er the ſcene, While lanely I ſtray’d in a calm ſimmer gloam To muſe on ſweet Jeſſy the flower o' Dumblain, How ſweet is the brier wi' its ſaft faulding blossom, And ſweet is the birk wi’ its mantle o’ green Yet ſweeter, and fairer and dear to this boſom Is lovely young Jessie the flower o’ Dumblain Is lovely, &c.
She’s modeſt as ony, and blithe as ſhe’s bonny, For guileleſs ſimplicity marks her its ain, An’ far be the villain, diveſted o’ feeling, Wad blight in its bloom, the ſweet flower o' Dumblain. Sing on thou ſweet mavis thy hymn to the e'ening, Thou’rt dear to the echoes o’ Calderwood glen ​Sae dear to this boſom, ſae artleſs and winning, Is charming young Jeffy the flower o’ Dumblain, Is charming, &c.
How loſt were my days till I met wi’ my Jeffy, The ſports o’ the city ſeem‘d fooliſh and vain; I ne’er ſaw a nymph I could ca’ my dear laſſie, Till charm'd wi‘ young Jeffy the flower o‘Dumblain. Tho‘ mine were the ſtation o‘ loftieſt grandeur, Amidſt its profuſion I'd languiſh in pain, And reckon it as naething the height o' its ſplendor, If wanting ſweet Jeffy the flower o' Dumblain; If wanting, &c.
# Jessie the Flower o' Dumblain

JESSIE THE FLOWER O’ DUMBLAIN.
To which is added,
BARBARA BELL,
OH! TO BE MARRIED IF THIS BE THE WAY.
AND,
A Hunting Song.
STIRLING: Printed and Sold by M. Randall.
* Jessie the Flower o' Dumblain
* Barbara Bell
* Oh! to be married if this be the way
* A Hunting Song
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
# Jessie the Flower o' Dumblain/A Hunting Song

A HUNTING SONG.
WITH early horn ſalute the morn, That gilds this charging place; With cheerful cries bid echo riſe, And join the jovial chace. The vocal hills around, The waving woods, The chryſtal floods, Return the enliv'ning found.
FINIS.
# Jesse Harnage v. Martin

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
242 U.S. 386
Jesse Harnage v. Martin
Argued: December 19, 1916. --- Decided: January 8, 1917
Messrs. James A. Veasey, Lloyd A. Rowland, and Jere P. O'Meara for plaintiffs in error.
Mr. Robert J. Boone for defendants in error.
Mr. Justice Pitney dilivered 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
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Iole

Literary Gazette, 7th January, 1826, Pages 10-11
ORIGINAL POETRY.
IOLE.
'Tis a vain folly, and I know it such;   Yet who has not some weakness which the heart   Has made an idol? 'Tis thus with the name   That to my lute is as the vizard is,   Which hides the masquer's face. I have no hope,   Nay, scarce the wish, for fame; but yet it soothes,   And gives me somewhat of a social feeling,   To think that some, albeit they know me not,  May share the grief that taught me poetry.  Beloved mine! Iole has a sound   Breathing of other days, and linked with thee:   'Tis not the first time I have borne that name.   When but a boy, (for I was fair and pale,  And had some likeness to an antique gem,) In some young frolic, garb'd as a Greek girl,   Named from that cameo with Iole's name,
 I taught my lute its earliest song of love,   Pouring my feelings under that disguise,
 lanthe, thou wast spirit of that song.—
 It was my first disguise, it is my last,—   And both alike are thine, Iole.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Lezione

Literary Gazette, 14th January, 1826, Page 26
ORIGINAL POETRY.
LEZIONE PER L’AMORE.
Where, oh, where's the chain to fling,
One that will chain Cupid's wing—
One that will have longer power
Than the April sun or shower?
Form it not of eastern gold—
Golden fetters never hold;
They may chain, but not confine,
Not allure—but only shine.
Neither form it all of bloom—
Never does Love find his tomb
Sudden, soon, as when he meets
Death amid unvarying sweets.
But if you would fling a chain,
And not fling it quite in vain,
Like a fairy, form a spell
Of all that is changeable;
Like the purple tints that deck
The gay peacock's sunny neck;
Or the many hues that play
In the colouring morning's ray.
Never let a hope appear
Without its companion, fear;
Only smile to sigh, and then
Change into a smile again.
Be to-day as sad and pale
As minstrel with his lovelorn tale;
But to-morrow gay as all
Your life had been a festival.
If a woman would secure
All that makes her reign endure—
And, alas! her reign must be
Ever most in fantasy—
Never let a curious eye
Gaze upon the heart too nigh—
Never let the veil be thrown
Quite aside, as all were known,
Of delight and tenderness
In the spirit's last recess;
And one spell—all spells above—
Never let her own her love.
L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Henry Second

Literary Gazette, 25th February, 1826, Page 123
ORIGINAL POETRY.
METRICAL FRAGMENTS.
No. II—King Henry the Second's Death Bed.
Red meteors shot athwart the murk and troubled sky,
And pall-like on the air the gloomy clouds swept by;
And as an evil omen, with its own ill-tidings spent,
The dirge of the autumn wind pined, in the battlement.
The flash of the lightning lit the night of the lone room,
Whose single taper could not light, but only shew the gloom.
It was a stately room, though little state was there,
For the tapestry hung in shreds, and the cold stone floor was bare:
Yet there lay England's king—lay low on his death bed:
He had three fair sons—is there not one to prop his dying head?
No!—one is sleeping in the grave, whence nothing may him bring,
And one has drawn the sword against his father and his king.
Raised the old king his drooping head, heavily did he say,
The glory of fair England's crown from me hath past away;
For my foes have girt me round, and my weary race is run,—
Mine ancient friends have turn'd from me to seek the rising sun:
I soon shall be, like my best hopes, trodden down into dust,—
Then gather round the faithful few whom yet my soul can trust;
O bring,—and fondly as he spoke the aged monarch smiled,—
That I may bless him ere I die,—my true—my favourite child.
How could they speak the truth? how vex his dying ear?
Again King Henry spoke, "Why comes not my child here?” He read upon their face, what their lips could not disclose,
That his favourite child had join'd beneath the banner of his foes!
He started from his couch, his wither'd hands he raised,—
The lightning like the fire of hell over his pale face blazed,—
"Curses on my false children I pray that there may be!
And may they die the evil death that they have brought on me!"
The thunder shook the roof, as the troubled element
Gave from the heaven above fiercely its stern assent:
And soon the monarch's breath had pass'd, had pass'd like the night wind,
And though his lips were cold in death, his curse remain'd behind. IOLE.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Ianthe Portrait

Literary Gazette, 25th March, 1826, Page 186
IANTHE.—A PORTRAIT.
Her likeness! why it is a vain endeavour
To image it. Painting or words may never
Say what she was; yet dwell I on the task,
As if that Poesy had a right to ask
From Memory its treasure. She was fair:—
Vague words! that is but what a thousand are.
I will be more distinct: her face was fine
And perfect, in its soften'd Grecian line.
The temples were transparent, and so white,
That the blue veins ran through like rays of light.
The brow was noble, queen-like, somewhat proud, But this seem'd as it were of right allow'd—
For mind was in its beauty, and you gazed
On its high meaning till no more amazed
At what seem'd History's fiction,—when that queen—
Martyr—and heroine—woman—by turns had been. I heard she was unhappy, and I checkt
My eager gaze at first; she might suspect—
For sorrow brings distrust—that it was less
Pity for her than idle curiousness.
This wore away; and then I loved to dwell
On beauty, that to me was all a spell.
 How did I watch upon her soft eyes' keep,
Half-hidden by the eyelids' fringed sweep,
Which seem'd as if they hid from daylight's glare
The mournful meanings settled darkly there:—
The heart's deep-spreading sadness, till it made
The very light around perpetual shade!
But 'tis her voice that haunts me,—that low tone,
Melting as Woman's, Love's, or Pity's own—
Like silver tuned to music, or a bird
Gifted with human language—but each word
As sweet as any note that might belong
To the first murmur of a Minstrel' song.
I loved her with youth's first and fiery love,
That holds its own divinity above
All things which are of earth, yet not the less
For this, I loved with manhood's steadiness;
And yet it lives, though now its only food
Is memory.IOLE.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Iole to his Love

Literary Gazette, 2nd September, 1826, Page 557
ORIGINAL POETRY.
METRICAL FRAGMENTS NO. III.
Iole to his Love.
It is in vain I seek
 As I have sung to sing,
My heart has lost a pulse,
 My lute has lost a string.
For the sleeping veil is rent,
 And life may never seem
Such as when Love the colour gave,
 And Hope lit up the dream.
For Love is dead to me,
 And Hope has left my breast,
And Memory, like a bird,
 Wails round her ruined nest.
I live on in my youth,
 Although that youth to me
Is blighted, sear, and reft,
 As autumn leaf could be.
I look upon the world
 With too cold and clear an eye,
And for its joys and griefs
 I have nor smile nor sigh.
Smiles have turn'd too oft to tears,
 For me to smile again;
And wherefore should I sigh,
 When I know that sighs are vain?
A dark and sullen calm
 Is that upon my heart;
There is no change in earthly lot
 Can bid its gloom depart.
Another spring may call
 The garden from its tomb—
The green leaves in their freshness—
 The bright flowers in their bloom.
But can the bud reblossom,—
 Hope,—Love, their beauty shed,—
When the very soil is ruined,
 And the heart itself is dead?
IOLE.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Moon

Literary Gazette, 25th March, 1826, Page 186
ORIGINAL POETRY.
MOON.
The Moon is sailing o'er the sky,
But lonely all, as if she pined
For somewhat of companionship,
And felt it was in vain she shined:
 Earth is her mirror, and the stars
Are as the court around her throne;
She is a beauty and a queen;
But what of this? she is alone.
 Where are those who may share with thee
Thy glorious royalty on high?
I cannot choose but pity thee,
Thou lovely orphan of the sky.
 I'd rather be the meanest flower
That grows, my mother Earth, on thee,
So there were others of my kin,
To blossom, bloom, droop, die with me.
 Earth, thou hast sorrow, grief, and death;
But with these better could I bear,
Than reach and rule yon radiant sphere,
And be a Solitary there.
L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Ianthe

Literary Gazette, 7th January, 1826, Pages 10-11
TO IANTHE.
And sounds of joy are ringing
 Again in that ancient hall,
 And tones of music fall,
To answer a soft voice singing.
Around it green leaves are wreathing;
 And, saved from the power
 Of the winter hour,
Some few choicest flowers are breathing.
The piled-up hearth is blazing;
 And around it stand
 A youthful band,
Their gayest carol raising.
I stood aloof, in my sadness—
 The silent lip, the heavy sigh:—
 Oh! what had they, or what had I
To do with scenes of gladness?
And my heart went back, in its sorrow,
 To the beauty and the bloom,
 Sleeping the sleep of the tomb, In a night that knows no morrow—
At least, none of earthly greeting:
 And my spirits had not power
 To think upon that hour,
Which hopes an immortal meeting:
For at once to memory started,
 As I enter'd the festive scene,
 Thoughts of all that once had been,
And all that was now departed.
Again I saw thee reclining,
 With thy soft eyes and bow'd down head,  And thy dark hair round it spread,
Like the wing of the raven shining.
But that dream of the moment past o'er me,
 And I waken'd again
 But to added pain,
And to know that nought could restore thee Alas! for Memory's folly!
 I but start from the sweet dreams,
 Where the past like the present seems,
To an added melancholy. One sweet hope is not denied me,—
 Though my vain wishes must not save,
 I get my share—the grave,—
And rest, mine Ianthe, beside thee. IOLE.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1826/Io Triumphe

Literary Gazette, 21st January, 1826, Page 43
IO TRIUMPHE.
Heavy had been the march that day,
For long and sultry was the way;
More weary far than if it lay
 To be cut through armed foes:
The pennon drooped upon the air,
As if it had no business there,
With nothing rival near to dare,
 And nothing to oppose.
'Twas pleasant when the darkening west
Called the worn soldier to his rest,
Upon the green earth's mother breast,
 To dream of hearth and home:
On many a rough cheek the soft smile,
With an unconscious tear the while,
Told how the visions could beguile
 That on such slumbers come.
But morning came—and with it came
Tidings that lit the brow to flame;
Forgot the night-dream's gentler claim—
 The weary march forgot:
Hark to the clarion ringing clear!
Hark to the trumpet's voice of cheer!
And, like an omen on the ear,  The distant cannon-shot!
There rode the eagles on the wind,—
The hills are with the white ranks lined,
And thousands gather dark behind,
 Like a storm on the sea:
And face them—England's gallant bands,
Their fearful welcome in their hands, In whizzing balls and flashing brands—
 Death, is this all for thee?
One moment, 'tis a gallant sight—
Float the rich banners from the height,
And helm and cuirass blaze in light
 From the young day-break's beam:
Beneath the curb proud coursers prance,
Like summer clouds the white plumes dance,
And the red flags from the bright lance
 Like sudden meteors gleam.
One moment—and all sight is vain,—
Reddens the sky with fiery rain,—
Closes the smoke-cloud round the plain—
 Fit cloak for Death to throw:
As mid the Alpines thunders sweep,
Waking the mountains from their sleep—
So comes the tumult, stern and deep,
 From the dread strife below.
—'Tis moonlight on the quiet field
Where sabre flashed and musket pealed;
Where was the fate of thousands sealed,
 'Tis calm as a child's rest:
But ill suits earth with such a sky—
One with its soft, sweet stars on high,
While dead and dying thousands lie
 Upon the other's breast.
And there they lie—the true, the brave,
The morning's pride, like a spent wave;
And has not Glory even a grave,
 For those who for her died?
No; there they lie—the young, the old,
The steel cap by the helm of gold,
The steed upon its rider rolled,
 Friend and foe, side by side.
Enough of this—across the sea,
To know what triumph there may be
Where Glory joins Festivity,
 Rejoicing in its fame:
There's feasting spread in gorgeous halls,
The lamps flash round the city walls,
And many a flood of lustre falls
 O'er many an honoured name.
Turn thou from this, and enter where
Some mother weeps o'er her despair,
Some desolate bride rends her rich hair,
 Some orphan joins the cry!
Then back again to the death plain,
Where lie those whom they weep in vain,
And ask, in gazing on the slain,
 What art thou, Victory?
IOLE.