OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/Dirge of a Highland Chief

Dirge of a Highland Chief.
[Set to music by R. A. Smith.]
Son of the mighty and the free, Loved leader of the faithful brave, Was it for high-rank'd chief like thee To fill a nameless grave? Oh, hadst thou slumber'd with the slain. Had glory's death-bed been thy lot, Even though on red Culloden's plain, We then had mourn'd thee not.
But darkly closed thy morn of fame, That morn whose sunbeams rose so fair: Revenge alone may breathe thy name, The watch-word of despair. Yet, oh, if gallant spirit's power Has e'er ennobled death like thine, Then glory mark'd thy parting hour, Last of a mighty line.
O'er thy own bowers the sunshine falls, But cannot cheer their lonely gloom; Those beams that gild thy native walls Are sleeping on thy tomb. Spring on the mountains laughs the while, Thy green woods wave in vernal air; But the loved scenes may vainly smile— Not e'en thy dust is there.
On thy blue hills no bugle sound Is mixing with the torrent's roar;
Unmark'd the red deer sport around— Thou lead'st the chase no more. Thy gates are closed, thy halls are still— Those halls where swell'd the coral strain: They hear the wild winds murmuring shrill, And all is hush'd again.
Thy bard his pealing harp has broke— His fire, his joy of song, is past! One lay to mourn thy fate he woke, His saddest, and his last. No other theme to him is dear Than lofty deeds of thine: Hush'd be the strain thou canst not hear, Last of a mighty line.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Donald Couper

Donald Couper.
[The tune called "Donald Couper" is very old, and it can be traced back at least as far as the middle of the 17th century. The following words from Johnson's Musical Museum, Part IV., 1792, appear a mere fragment.]
Hey, Donald, howe Donald, Hey Donald Couper! He's gane awa' to seek a wife, And he's come hame without her.
O Donald Couper and his man Held to a Highland fair, man; And a' to seek a bonnie lass— But fient a ane was there, man.
At length he get a carlin gray, And she's come hirplin' hame, man; And she's fawn ower the buffet stool, And brak' her rumple-bane, man.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Donald Gunn

Donald Gunn.
[David Webster.—Air, "Johnnie Pringle."]
Heard ye e'er o' Donald Gunn, Ance sae duddy, dowf, and needy, Now a laird in yonder toun, Callous-hearted, proud, and greedy.
Up the glen aboon the linn, Donald met wi' Maggie Millar, Wooed the lass amang the whins, Because she had the word o' siller; Meg was neither trig nor braw, Had mae fauts than ane laid till her; Donald looket ower them a', A' his thought was on the siller. Heard ye e'er, &c.
Donald grew baith braid and braw, Ceased to bore the whinstone quarry, Maggie's siller pays for a', Breeks instead o' duddy barrie: Though he's ignorant as a stirk, Though he's doure as ony donkey; Yet, by accidental jirk Donald rides before a fltinky. Heard ye e'er, &c.
Clachan bairnies roar wi' fright, Clachan dogs tak' to their trotters, Clachan wives the pathway dicht To tranquillise his thraward features:
Gangrel bodies in the street Beck and bow to make him civil, Tenant bodies in his debt, Shun him as they'd shun the devil. Heard ye e'er, &c.
Few gangs trigger to the fair, Few gangs to the kirk sae gaucie,— Few wi' Donald can compare To keep the cantel o' the causie:
In his breast a bladd o' stane, Neith his hat a box o' brochan, In his nieve a wally cane, Thus the tyrant rules the clachan. Heard ye e'er, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Donald Macgillavry

Donald Macgillavry.
[This is given by Hogg, in his "Jacobite Relics," as "a capital old song, and very popular." In a rather caustic criticism of that work, the Edinburgh Review quotes "Donald Maegillavry" as one of the best Jacobite relics in the collection. The Shepherd afterwards avowed it to be a production of his own, and rejoiced in the thought that he had exposed the reviewer's ignorance, without taking into calculation that he had also at the same time exposed his own literary dishonesty.]
Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry, Donald's come down the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gowk's nest cleverly— Here's to the king and Donald Macgillavry! Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry; Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly— Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry.
Donald's ran ower the hill, but his tether, man, As he were wud, or stang'd wi" an ether, man; When he comes back there's some will look merrily— Here's to king James and Donald Macgillavry! Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry; Pack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly, Gi'e them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry.
Donald has foughten wi' reif and roguery, Donald has dinner'd wi' banes and beggary; Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry. Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry; Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly—
Here's to king James and Donald Macgillavry!
Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness, Whigging and prigging, and a' newfangleness; They maun be gane, he winna be baukit, man, He maun ha'e justice, or faith he will tak' it, man. Come like a cobbler, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a cobbler, Donald Macgillavry; Beat them, and bore them, and lingle them cleverly— Up wi' king James and Donald Macgillavry! ​Donald was mumpit wi' mirds and mockery, Donald was blinded wi' blads o' property; Aries were high, but makinga were naething, man— Lord, how Donald is flyting and fretting, man! Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry, Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry; Skelp them and scaud them that proved sae unbritherly— Up wi' king James and Donald Macgillavry!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Doctor Monroe

Doctor Monroe.
[James Hogg.]
"Dear Doctor, be clever, an' fling aff your beaver, Come, bleed me an' blister me, dinna be slow; I'm sick, I'm exhausted, my prospects are blasted, An' a' driven heels o'er head, Doctor Munroe!" "Be patient, dear fellow, you foster your fever; Pray, what's the misfortune that troubles you so?" "O, Doctor! I'm ruin'd, I'm ruin'd for ever— My lass has forsaken me, Doctor Munroe!
"I meant to have married, an' tasted the pleasures, The sweets, the enjoyments from wedlock that flow: But she's ta'en another, an' broken my measures, An' fairly dumfounder'd me, Doctor Munroe! ​I'm fool'd, I am dover'd as dead as a herring— Good sir, you're a man of compassion, I know; Come, bleed me to death, then, unflinching, unerring, Or grant me some poison, dear Doctor Monroe!"
The Doctor he flang aff his big-coat an' beaver, He took out his lance, an' he sharpen'd it so; No judge ever look'd more decided or graver— "I've oft done the same, sir," says Doctor Monroe, "For gamblers, rogues, jockeys, and desperate lovers, But I always make charge of a hundred, or so." The patient look'd pale, and cried out in shrill quavers, "The devil! do you say so, sir, Doctor Monroe?"
"O yes, sir, I'm sorry there's nothing more common; I like it—it pays—but, ere that length I go, A man that goes mad for the love of a woman I sometimes can cure with a lecture, or so." "Why, thank you, sir; there spoke the man and the friend too, Death is the last reckoner with friend or with foe, The lecture then, first, if you please, I'll attend to; The other, of course, you know, Doctor Monroe."
The lecture is said—How severe, keen, an' cutting, Of love an' of wedlock, each loss an' each woe, The patient got up—o'er the floor he went strutting, Smil'd, caper'd, an' shook hands with Doctor Monroe. He dresses, an' flaunts it with Bell, Sue, an' Chirsty, But freedom an' fun chooses not to forego; He still lives a bachelor, drinks when he's thirsty, An' sings like a lark, an' loves Doctor Monroe!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Dirge of Wallace

Dirge of Wallace.
[Thomas Campbell.]
They lighted a taper at the dead of night, And chaunted their holiest hymn; But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright, Her eye was all sleepless and dim,— And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord, When a death-watch beat in her lonely room, When her curtain had shook of its own accord, And the raven had flapp'd at her window board, To tell her of her warrior's doom.
Now sing ye the Song, and loudly pray For the soul of my knight so dear; And call me a widow this wretched day, Since the warning of God is here. For a night-mare rides on my strangled sleep; The lord of my bosom is doom'd to die; His valorous heart they have wounded deep, And the blood-red tears shall his country weep For Wallace of Elderslie.
Yet knew not his country that ominous hour, Ere the loud matin bell was rung, That a trumpet of death on an English tower Had the dirge of her champion sung. When his dungeon light look'd dim and red. On the high born blood of a martyr slain, No anthem was sung at his holy deathbed, No weeping there was when his bosom bled, And his heart was rent in twain.
Oh! it was not thus when his oaken spear Was true to the knight forlorn, And hosts of a thousand were scatter'd, like deer At the sound of the huntsman's horn When he strode o'er the wreck of each well fought field, With the yellow-hair'd chiefs of his native land; For his lance was not shiver'd, or helmet, or shield, And the sword that seem'd fit for Archangel to wield, Was light in his terrible hand.
But, bleeding and bound, though the Wallace wight For his much lov'd country die, The bugle ne'er sung to a braver Knight Than Wallace of Elderslie. But the day of his glory shall never depart, His head unintomb'd shall with glory be palm'd, From his blood-streaming altar his spirit shall start, Tho' the raven has fed on his mouldering heart, A nobler was never embalm'd.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Donald is no more

Donald is no more.
O'er the braes and o'er the burn Jessy strays baith night and morn, Watching for her love's return From a distant shore. But, alas! she looks in vain; He will ne'er return again; For in battle he was slain— Donald is no more. For in battle, &c.
Hope awhile her bosom cheers— Soothes her doubts, allays her fears— Still her cheek is bathed in tears— Still her heart is sore. Vainly does she, night and morn, Pace the dreary braes and burn, Watching for her love's return— Donald is no more. For in battle, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Donald of Dundee

Donald of Dundee.
Young Donald is the blythest lad That e'er made love to me; Whene'er he's by my heart is glad, He seems so gay and free; Then on his pipe he plays so sweet, And in his plaid he looks so neat, It cheers my heart at eve to meet Young Donald of Dundee.
Whene'er I gang to yonder grove, Young Sandy follows me, And fain he wants to be my love, But ah! it canna be. Though mither frets both air an' late, For me to wed this youth I hate; There's none need hope to gain young Kate But Donald of Dundee.
When last we rang'd the banks of Tay, The ring he show'd to me, And bade me name the bridal-day, Then happy wou'd he be. I ken the youth will aye prove kind, Nae mair my mither will I mind, Mess John to me shall quickly bind Young Donald of Dundee.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Sparrow and the Peacock

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
THE SPARROW AND THE PEACOCK.
There was once a sparrow, that used every day to visit a certain king of the birds and was the first to go in to him and the last to leave him. One day, a company of birds assembled on a high mountain, and one of them said to another, ‘Verily, we are waxed many and many are the differences between us, and needs must we have a king to order our affairs, so shall we be at one and our differences will cease.’ Thereupon up came the sparrow ​and counselled them to make the peacock,—that is, the prince he used to visit,—king over them. So they chose the peacock to their king and he bestowed largesse on them and made the sparrow his secretary and vizier. Now the sparrow was wont bytimes to leave his assiduity [in the personal service of the king] and look into affairs [in general]. One day, he came not at the usual time, whereat the peacock was sore troubled; but presently, he returned and the peacock said to him, ‘What hath delayed thee, that art the nearest to me of all my servants and the dearest?’ Quoth the sparrow, ‘I have seen a thing that is doubtful to me and at which I am affrighted.’ ‘What was it thou sawest?’ asked the king; and the sparrow answered, ‘I saw a man set up a net, hard by my nest, and drive its pegs fast into the ground. Then he strewed grain in its midst and withdrew afar off. As I sat watching what he would do, behold, fate and destiny drove thither a crane and his wife, which fell into the midst of the net and began to cry out; whereupon the fowler came up and took them. This troubled me, and this is the reason of my absence from thee, O king of the age; but never again will I abide in that nest, for fear of the net.’ ‘Depart not thy dwelling,’ rejoined the peacock; ‘for precaution will avail thee nothing against destiny.’ And the sparrow obeyed his commandment, saying, ‘I will take patience and not depart, in obedience to the king.’ So he continued to visit the king and carry him food and water, taking care for himself, till one day he saw two sparrows fighting on the ground and said in himself, ‘How can I, who am the king’s vizier, look on and see sparrows fighting in my neighbourhood? By Allah, I must make peace between them!’ So he flew down to them, to reconcile them; but the fowler cast the net over them and taking the sparrow in question, gave him to his fellow, saying, ‘Take care of him, for he is the fattest and ​finest I ever saw.’ But the sparrow said in himself, ‘I have fallen into that which I feared and it was none but the peacock that inspired me with a false security. It availed me nothing to beware of the stroke of fate, since for him who taketh precaution there is no fleeing from destiny; and how well says the poet:
That which is not to be shall by no means be brought To pass, and that which is to be shall come, unsought, Even at the time ordained; but he that knoweth not The truth is still deceived and finds his hopes grown nought.’
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Spider and the Wind

Second-level story, contained in King Jelyaad of Hind and His Vizier Shimas
THE SPIDER AND THE WIND.
A spider once took up her abode on a high retired gate and span her web there and dwelt therein in peace, giving thanks to God the Most High, who had made this dwelling-place easy to her and had set her in safety from noxious reptiles. On this wise she abode awhile, still giving thanks to God for her ease and sustenance, till the Creator bethought Him to try her and make essay of her gratitude and patience. So he sent upon her a strong north-east wind, which carried her away, web and all, and cast her into the sea. The waves bore her ashore and she thanked God for safety and began to upbraid the wind, saying, “O wind, why hast thou dealt thus with me and what good hast thou gotten by carrying me hither from my abiding-place, where indeed I was in safety, secure in my house on the top of the gate?” “Leave thy chiding,” replied the wind, “for I will carry thee back and restore thee to thy place, as thou wast aforetime.”
So the spider waited patiently, till the north-east wind left blowing and there arose a south-west wind, which caught her up and flew with her towards her dwelling-place; and when she came to her abode, she knew it and clung to it.
Return to King Jelyaad of Hind and His Vizier Shimas.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Stolen Necklace

Second-level story, contained in The Malice of Women
THE STOLEN NECKLACE.
There was once a devout woman, who had renounced the world and devoted herself to the service of God. Now she used to resort to a certain king’s palace, the dwellers wherein looked for a blessing by reason of her presence, and she was held of them in high honour. One day, she entered the palace, according to her wont, and sat down beside the queen. Presently the latter gave her a necklace, worth a thousand dinars, saying, “Keep this for me, whilst I go to the bath.” So she entered the bath, which was in the palace, and the pious woman laid the necklace on the prayer-carpet and stood up to pray. As she was thus engaged, there came a magpie, which snatched up the necklace, [unseen of her,] and carrying it off, hid it in a crevice in one of the palace-walls. When the queen came out of the bath, she sought the necklace of the recluse, and the latter searched for it, but found it not nor could light on any trace of it; so she said to the queen, “By Allah, O my daughter, none has been with me. When thou gavest me the necklace, I laid it on the prayer-carpet, and I know not if one of the servants saw it and took it without my heed, whilst I was engaged in prayer. God only knows what is come of it!” When the King heard what had happened, he bade his consort put the woman to the question by fire and beating; Night dxcvii.so they tortured her with all manner tortures, but could not bring ​her to confess or to accuse any. Then he commanded to lay her in irons and cast her into prison, and they did as he bade.
One day, after this, as the King sat in the inner court of his palace, with the queen by his side aud water flowing around him, he saw the magpie fly into a crevice of the wall and pull out the lost necklace, whereupon he cried out to a damsel who was with him, and she caught the bird and took the necklace from it. By this the King knew that the pious woman had been wronged and repented of that he had done with her. So he sent for her and fell to kissing her head and sought pardon of her-weeping. Moreover, he commanded great treasure to be given to her, but she would none of it. However, she forgave him and went away, vowing never again to enter any one’s house. So she betook herself to wandering in the mountains and valleys and worshipped God the Most High till she died.
Return to The Malice of Women.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Simpleton and the Sharper

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
THE SIMPLETON AND THE SHARPER.
A certain simple fellow was once going along, haling his ass after him by the halter, when a couple of sharpers saw him and one said to his fellow, ‘I will take that ass from yonder man.’ ‘How wilt thou do that?’ asked the other. ‘Follow me and I will show thee,’ replied the first. So he went up to the ass and loosing it from the halter, gave the beast to his fellow; then clapped the halter on his own head and followed the simpleton, till he knew that the other had got clean off with the ass, when he stood still. The man pulled at the halter, but ​the thief stirred not; so he turned and seeing the halter on a man’s neck, said to him, ‘Who art thou?’ Quoth the sharper, ‘I am thine ass and my story is a strange one. Know that I have a pious old mother and came in to her one day, drunk; and she said to me, “O my son, repent to God the Most High of these thy transgressions.” But I took the cudgel and beat her, whereupon she cursed me and God the Most High changed me into an ass and caused me fall into thy hands, where I have remained till now. However, to-day, my mother called me to mind and her heart relented towards me; so she prayed for me, and God restored me to my former shape of a man.’ ‘There is no power and no virtue but in God the Most High, the Supreme!’ cried the simpleton. ‘O my brother, I conjure thee by Allah, acquit me of what I have done with thee, in the way of riding and so forth.’
Then he let the sharper go and returned home, drunken with chagrin and concern. His wife asked him, ‘What ails thee and where is the ass?’ And he answered, ‘Thou knowest not what was this ass; but I will tell thee.’ So he told her the story, and she exclaimed, ‘Woe worth us for God the Most High! How could we have used a man as a beast of burden, all this while?’ And she gave alms and asked pardon of God. Then the man abode awhile at home, idle, till she said to him, ‘How long wilt thou sit at home, idle? Go to the market and buy us an ass and do thy business with it.’ Accordingly, he went to the market and stopping by the ass-stand, saw his own ass for sale. So he went up to it and clapping his mouth to its ear, said to it, ‘Out on thee, thou good-for-nought! Doubtless thou hast been getting drunk again and beating thy mother! But, by Allah, I will never buy thee more!’ And he left it and went away.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Sparrow and the Eagle

Second-level story, contained in The Fox and the Crow
THE SPARROW AND THE EAGLE.
A sparrow was once hovering over a sheep-fold, when he saw a great eagle swoop down upon a lamb and carry it off in his claws. Thereupon the sparrow clapped his wings and said, “I will do even as the eagle hath done;” and he conceited himself and aped a greater than he. So he flew down forthright and lighted on the back of a fat ram, with a thick fleece that was become matted, by his lying in his dung and stale, till it was like felt. As soon as the sparrow lighted on the sheep’s back, he clapped his wings and would have flown away, but his feet became tangled in the wool and he could not win free. All this while the shepherd was looking on, having seen as well what happened with the eagle as with the sparrow; so he came up to the latter in a rage and seized him. Then he plucked out his wing-feathers and tying his feet with a twine, carried him to his children and threw him to them. “What is this?” asked they and he answered, “This is one that aped a greater than himself and came to grief.”
Return to The Fox and the Crow.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.