OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Science of History and the Hope of Mankind/Chapter 8

SECTION VIII
RECAPITULATION
RECAPITULATING, then, the lessons of the Science of History founded on Biology, we find that neither literary movements nor political agitations, neither the acquisition of liberty nor expansion of territories—in fact, none of the various aspects of national life are absolutely dependent on the particular people concerned, all are the products and resultants of the mutual influences of all nations and national activities on one another; so that types of national character are moulded through constant interactions and intercourses of life and thought. In the second place, these ​international actions and reactions assume different aspects in different times and thus give rise to different nationalities of the human race and different types of national characteristics. In the third place, the manifestations of life that give rise to various national types and different national characteristics are always varying both in form and spirit according to the varying conditions of the world; so that so long as man will be able to adapt his movements to the varying circumstances of the environment, there is no need of despair for the progress of humanity.
# The Science of Rights

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Original title: Grundlage des Naturrechts nach Principien der Wissenschaftslehre (1796/1797).
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Science of Matrimony

Uncompleted serial novel, only three parts having appeared, published in Once a Week, 1860.
* Part 1
* Part 2
* Part 3
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XLI: The Citizens' Lament

The lion chief with hands upraised Was born from eyes that fondly gazed. But then the ladies' bower was rent With cries of weeping and lament: 'Where goes he now, our lord, the sure Protector of the friendless poor, In whom the wretched and the weak Defence and aid were wont to seek? All words of wrath he turned aside, And ne'er, when cursed, in ire replied. He shared his people's woe, and stilled The troubled breast which rage had filled. Our chief, on lofty thoughts intent, In glorious fame preeminent: As on his own dear mother, thus He ever looked on each of us. Where goes he now? His sire's behest, By Queen Kaikeyí's guile distressed, Has banished to the forest hence Him who was all the world's defence. Ah, senseless King, to drive away The hope of men, their guard and stay, To banish to the distant wood Ráma the duteous, true, and good!' The royal dames, like cows bereaved Of their young calves, thus sadly grieved. The monarch heard them as they wailed, And by the fire of grief assailed For his dear son, he bowed his head, And all his sense and memory fled.  Then were no fires of worship fed, Thick darkness o'er the sun was spread. The cows their thirsty calves denied, And elephants flung their food aside.
Tris'anku, Jupiter looked dread, And Mercury and Mars the red, In direful opposition met, The glory of the moon beset. The lunar stars withheld their light, The planets were no longer bright, But meteors with their horrid glare, And dire Vis'ákhás lit the air. As troubled Ocean heaves and raves When Doom's wild tempest sweeps the waves, Thus all Ayodhyá reeled and bent When Ráma to the forest went. And chilling grief and dark despair Fell suddenly on all men there. Their wonted pastime all forgot, Nor thought of food, or touched it not. Crowds in the royal street were seen With weeping eye and troubled mien: No more a people gay and glad, Each head and heart was sick and sad. No more the cool wind softly blew, The moon no more was fair to view, No more the sun with genial glow Cherished the world now plunged in woe. Sons, brothers, husbands, wedded wives Forgot the ties that joined their lives; No thought for kith and kin was spared, But all for only Ráma cared. And Ráma's friends who loved him best, Their minds disordered and distressed. By the great burthen of their woes Turned not to slumber or repose.  Like Earth with all her hills bereft  Of Indra's guiding care.  Ayodhyá in her sorrow left  By him, the high souled heir.  Was bowed by fear and sorrow's force,  And shook with many a throe,  While warrior, elephant, and horse  Sent up the cry of woe.
* ↑ See Canto LX: Tris'anku's Ascension
* ↑ Four stars of the sixteenth lunar asterism.
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XLVII: The Citizens' Return

The people, when the morn shone fair, Arose to find no Ráma there. Then fear and numbing grief subdued The senses of the multitude. The woe-born tears were running fast As all around their eyes they cast, And sadly looked, but found no trace Of Ráma, searching every place. Bereft of Ráma good and wise. With drooping cheer and weeping eyes, Each woe-distracted sage gave vent To sorrow in his wild lament: 'Woe worth the sleep that stole our sense With its beguiling influence, That now we look in vain for him Of the broad chest and stalwart limb! How could the strong-armed hero, thus Deceiving all, abandon us? His people so devoted see, Yet to the woods, a hermit, flee? How can he, wont our hearts to cheer, As a fond sire his children dear,-- How can the pride of Raghu's race Fly from us to some desert place! Here let us all for death prepare, Or on the last great journey fare. Of Ráma our dear lord bereft, What profit in our lives is left? Huge trunks of trees around us lie, With roots and branches sere and dry. Come let us set these logs on tire And throw our bodies on the pyre. What shall we speak? How can we say We followed Ráma on his way. The mighty chief whose arm is strong, Who sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong? Ayodhyá's town with sorrow dumb, Without our lord will see us come, And hopeless misery will strike Elder, and child, and dame alike. Forth with that peerless chief we came, Whose mighty heart is aye the same: How, reft of him we love, shall we Returning dare that town to see?'  Complaining thus with varied cry They tossed their aged arms on high. And their sad hearts with grief were wrung. Like cows who sorrow for their young. A while they followed on the road Which traces of his chariot showed, But when at length those traces failed, A deep despair their hearts assailed.
The chariot marks no more discerned, The hopeless sages backward turned: 'Ah, what is this? What can we more? Fate stops the way, and all is o'er.' With wearied hearts, in grief and shame They took the road by which they came, And reached Ayodhyá's city, where From side to side was naught but care. With troubled spirits quite cast down They looked upon the royal town, And from their eyes, oppressed with woe, Their tears again began to flow. Of Ráma reft, the city wore No look of beauty as before, Like a dull river or a lake By Garud robbed of every snake. Dark, dismal as the moonless sky, Or as a sea whose bed is dry, So sad, to every pleasure dead, They saw the town, disquieted. On to their houses, high and vast, Where stores of precious wealth were massed, The melancholy Bráhmans passed,  Their hearts with anguish cleft: Aloof from all, they came not near To stranger or to kinsman dear, Showing in faces blank and drear  That not one joy was left.
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XLIII: Kaus'alyá's Lament

Kaus'alyá saw the monarch lie With drooping frame and failing eye, And for her banished son distressed With these sad words her lord addressed: 'Kaikeyí, cruel, false, and vile Has cast the venom of her guile On Ráma lord of men, and she Will ravage like a snake set free; And more and more my soul alarm, Like a dire serpent bent on harm. For triumph crowns each dark intent, And Ráma to the wild is sent. Ah, were he doomed but here to stray Begging his food from day to day, Or do, enslaved, Kaikeyí's will, This were a boon, a comfort still. But she, as chose her cruel hate, Has hurled him from his high estate, As Bráhmans when the moon is new Cast to the ground the demons' due. The long-armed hero, like the lord Of Nágas, with his bow and sword Begins, I ween, his forest life With Lakshman and his faithful wife. Ah, how will fare the exiles now, Whom, moved by Queen Kaikeyí, thou Hast sent in forests to abide, Bred in delights, by woe untried? Far banished when their lives are young, With the fair fruit before them hung, Deprived of all their rank that suits, How will they live on grain and roots? O, that my years of woe were passed, And the glad hour were come at last When I shall see my children dear, Ráma, his wife, and Lakshman here! When shall Ayodhyá, wild with glee, Again those mighty heroes see, And decked with wreaths her banners wave To welcome home the true and brave? When will the beautiful city view With happy eyes the lordly two Returning, joyful as the main When the dear moon is full again? When, like some mighty bull who leads The cow exulting through the meads, Will Ráma through the city ride, Strong-armed, with Sítá at his side? When will ten thousand thousand meet And crowd Ayodhyá's royal street, And grain in joyous welcome throw Upon my sons who tame the foe? When with delight shall youthful bands Of Bráhman maidens in their hands
Bear fruit and flowers in goodly show, And circling round Ayodhyá go? With ripened judgment of a sage, And godlike in his blooming age, When shall my virtuous son appear, Like kindly rain, our hearts to cheer? Ah, in a former life, I ween, This hand of mine, most base and mean, Has dried the udders of the kine And left the thirsty calves to pine. Hence, as the lion robs the cow, Kaikeyí makes me childless now, Exulting from her feebler foe To rend the son she cherished so. I had but him, in Scripture skilled, With every grace his soul was filled. Now not a joy has life to give, And robbed of him I would not live: Yea, all my days are dark and drear If he, my darling, be not near, And Lakshman brave, my heart to cheer. As for my son I mourn and yearn, The quenchless flames of anguish burn  And kill me with the pain, As in the summer's noontide blaze The glorious Day-God with his rays  Consumes the parching plain.´
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XLIX: The Crossing of The Rivers

Now Ráma, ere the night was fled, O'er many a league of road had sped, Till, as his course he onward held, The morn the shades of night dispelled. The rites of holy dawn he paid, And all the country round surveyed. He saw, as still he hurried through Wth steeds which swift as arrows flew, Hamlets and groves with blossoms fair, And fields which showed the tillers' care, While from the clusteied dwellings near The words of peasants reached his ear: 'Fie on our lord the king, whose soul Is yielded up to love's control! Fie on the vile Kaikevi! Shame On that malicious sinful dame, Who, keenly bent on cruel deeds, No hounds of righht and virtue heeds, But with her wicked art has sent So good a prince to banishment, Wi-o, tender-hearted, ruling well His senses in the woods to dwell. Ah cruel king! his heart of steel For his own son no love could feel,
Who with the sinless Ráma parts, The darling of the people's hearts.'
 These words he heard the peasants say, Who dwelt in hamlets by the way, And, lord of all the realm by right, Through Kosala pursued his flight. Through the auspicious flood, at last, Of Vesasruti's stream he passed, Aud onward to the place he sped By Saint Agastya tenanted. Still on for many an hour he hied, And crossed the stream whose fooling tide Rolls onward till she meets the sea, The herd-frequented Gomatil Borne by his rapid horses o'er, He reached that river's further shore. And Syandiká's,whose svan-loved stream, Resounded with the peacock's scream. Then as he journeyed on his road To hvs Videhan bride he showed The populous land which Manu old To King IKshvaku gave to hold. The glorious prince, the lord of men Looked on the charioteer, and then Voiced like a wild swan, loud and clear. He spake these words and bade him hear: 'When shall I, with returning feet My father and my mother meet? When shall I lead the hunt once more In bloomy woods on Sarju's shore? Most eagerly I long to ride Urging the chase on Sarju's side. For royal saints have seen no blame In this, the monarch's matchless game.'
Thus speeding on,--no reft or stay,-- Ikshvaku's son pursued his way. Oft his sweet voice the silence broke, And thus on varied themes he spoke.
# The Secret of Lonesome Cove

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1958, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 65 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
THE SECRET OF LONESOMECOVE
BY SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS
AUTHOR OF THE CLARION, AVERAGE JONES, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK E. SCHOONOVER
One may look at pictures unchaperoned.
TO ONE UNKNOWN
The only living being who possesses the secret of the strangely clad and manacled body found beneath the cliffs of Cornwall on April 30, 1909, this story, changed in the setting as he will understand, is blindly inscribed.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
* The Body On The Beach
* Professor Kent Makes A Call
* My Lady Of Mystery
* An Inquiry
* One Use For A Monocle
* The Retreat In Order
* Simon P. Groot Does Business
* Reckonings
* Chester Kent Declines A Job
* The Invasion
* Hedgerow House
* The Unbidden Visitor
* Loose Ends
* The Lone Fisherman
* The Turn Of The Game
* The Meeting
* Chance Sits In
* The Master Of Stars
* The Strange Tryst
* In The White Room
* Rewards
# The Shepheardes Calender/August

August.
Ægloga octaua.
ARGVMENT.
In this Æglogue is setforth a delectable controuersie, made in imitation of that in Theocritus: whereto also Virgile fashioned his third & seuenth Æglogue. They choose for vmpere of their strife, Cuddie a neatheards boye, who hauing ended their cause, reciteth also himselfe a proper song, whereof Colin he sayth was Authour.
Perigot his Embleme.
Vincenti gloria victi.
Willyes Embleme.
Vinto non vitto.
Cuddies Embleme.
Felice chj puo.
GLOSSE
Bestadde) disposed, ordered.
Peregall) equall.
Whilome) once.
Rafte) bereft, depriued.
Miswent) gon a straye.
Ill may) according
​to Virgile.Infelix o semper ouis pecus.
A mazer) So also do Theocritus and Virgile feigne pledges of their strife.
Enchased) engrauen. Such pretie descriptions euery where vseth Theocritus, to bring in his Idyllia. For which speciall cause indede he by that name termeth his Æglogues: for Idyllion in Greke signifieth the shape or picture of any thyng, wherof his booke is ful. And not, as I haue heard some fondly guesse, that they be called not Idyllia, but Hædilia, of the Goteheards in them.
Entrailed) wrought betwene.
Haruest Queene) The manner of country folke in haruest tyme.
Pousse.) Pease.
It fell vpon) Perigot maketh hys song in prayse of his loue, to whō Willy answereth euery vnder verse. By Perigot who is meant, I can not vprightly say: but if it be, who is supposed, his love deserueth no lesse prayse, then he giueth her.
Greete) weeping and complaint.
Chaplet) a kind of Garlond lyke a crowne.
Leuen) Lightning.
Cynthia) was sayd to be the Moone.
Gryde) perced.
But if) not vnlesse.
Squint eye) partiall iudgement.
Ech haue) so saith Virgile.
Et vitula tu dignus, et hic &c.
Doome) iudgement.
Dempt) fordeemed, iudged.
Wite the witelesse) blame the blamelesse.
The shepherd of Ida) was sayd to be Paris.
Beauties Queene) Venus, to whome Paris adiudged the goldden Apple, as the pryce of her beautie.
Embleme.
The meaning hereof is very ambiguous: for Perigot by his poesie claming the cōquest, & Willye not yeelding, Cuddie the arbiter of theyr cause, and Patron of his own, semeth to chalenge it, as his dew, saying, that he, is happy which can, so abruptly ending but hee meaneth eyther him, that can win the beste, or moderate him selfe being best, and leaue of with the best.
# The Shepheardes Calender

First published in 1579, this transcription is of the first edition. The copy transcribed is thought to be a very early one, as it features an uncorrected numbering of folio 49 as 94. [Based on A Critical Bibliography of the Works of Edmund Spenser printed before 1700 (1933), by Francis Rarick Johnson, pp. 2-3]
The Shepheardes Calender
Conteyning twelue Æglogues proportionable to the twelue monethes.
Entitled To the Noble and Vertvous Gentleman most worthy of all titles both of learning and cheualrie M. Philip Sidney. (·.·)
At London. Printed by Hugh Singleton, dwelling in Creede Lane neere vnto Ludgate at the Signe of the gylden Tunne, and are there to be solde.
1579.
TO HIS BOOKE.
* Epistle.
* Argvment.
The Shepheardes Calender
* Janvarye.
* Febrvarie.
* March.
* Aprill.
* Maye.
* June.
* Iulye.
* Avgvst.
* September.
* October.
* Nouember.
* December.
* Epilogue.
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
# The Small Library

London: G. Routledge & sons, pages Jacket––
THE SMALL LIBRARY
The English Library.
Fcap, 8vo, blue cloth gilt, gilt tops, each 2s. 6d.
* English, Past and Present. By Archbishop R. C. Trench, edited by Dr. A. Smythe Palmer.
* The Folk and their Word-Lore: an Essay on Popular Etymologies. By Rev. Dr. A. Smythe Palmer.
* On the Study of Words. By Archbishop R. C. Trench. Edited by Dr. A. Smythe Palmer.
* The Principles and Practice of Punctuation. By T. F. Husband, M.A.
* How to Read English Literature: Chaucer to Milton. By Laurie Magnus, M.A.
* —— Dryden to Meredith. By the same.
* Shakespeare's Debt to his Predecessors, and his Successors' debt to him. By Wm. Swan Sonnenschein
* Documents Illustrating Elizabethen Poetry: (Sidney's, Puttenham's, and Webbe's Treatises). Edited by Laurie Magnus, M.A.
* Select English Glossary of English Words used formerly in different senses from their present. By Archbishop Trench. Edited by Dr. A. Smythe Palmer.
* History in Fiction: an Annotated Guide to Historical Romances, etc., with Dates, Prices, and Publishers: British. By E. A. Baker, M.A.
* —— American and (translated) Foreign.
* Manual of Practical Bibliography. By J. D. Brown.
* The Small Library: a Guide to the collection and care of books. By J. D. Brown.
* Curious from a Word-Collector's Cabinet. By Dr. A. Smythe Palmer.
THE SMALL LIBRARY
A Guide to the Collection and Care of Books
By
James Duff Brown
Borough Librarian, Islington. Author of "Manual of Library Economy," "Manual of Practical Bibliography," etc
London
George Routledge & Sons Limited
New York: E. P. Dutton & Co
1907
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
# The Russian Review/Volume 2

July-August 1916, No. 1-2
PAGE
September 1916, No. 3
PAGE
REPRODUCTIONS OF RUSSIAN PAINTINGS:
October 1916, No. 4
PAGE
REPRODUCTIONS OF RUSSIAN PAINTINGS:
November 1916, No. 5
PAGE
REPRODUCTIONS OF RUSSIAN PAINTINGS:
December 1916, No. 6
PAGE
# The Russian Review/Volume 3

January 1917, No. 1
PAGE
REPRODUCTIONS OF RUSSIAN PAINTINGS:
February 1917, No. 2
PAGE
REPRODUCTIONS OF RUSSIAN PAINTINGS:
July 1917, No. 3
PAGE
# The Russian Review/Volume 1/May 1916/Song

Song.
By Count Alexis Tolstoy.
Translated by Lindsay S. Perkins.
Clearer sounds the skylark's trilling;
Flowers of springtime bloom more fair,
Hearts with inspiration filling;
Heavens full of beauty rare.
Broken are the bonds of sadness;
Laid aside all fetters low;
New life's current runs with gladness
In a full, triumphant flow.
Chiming fresh, young power attending,
Mighty harmonies arise,
Like to music, strains ascending
From the earth unto the skies.
# The Russian Review/Volume 1/May 1916/To Future Generations

To Future Generations.
By G. Viatkin.
Rendered into English Verse by Alice Stone Blackwell.
No place for murmurs now, no place for sad reproaches,
In presence of this War, which is perhaps the last!
'Twas for the whole world's sake that we took up the challenge;
We for the sake of lives to come rushed into battle vast.
And in our mighty ranks we now are moving onward,
Beneath a hail of balls, yet full of courage high,
That o'er your quiet fields, future generations!
No more may war's mad laughter ring out below the sky.
Trenches, and bursting mines, and weapons blown to fragments,
Huge fires, and mounds of dead who perished in the strife— All this that as your heritage, dear future generations,
You may enjoy in happiness a bright and peaceful life.
Our grandsons, horror-stricken, alas! will not believe us! So many tears are all around, such insults and such shame,
At times it seems this torment our souls can bear no longer;
Our brains cannot contain it, the woe of war's red game.
And shall we count our wounds while still the battle rages? Or, in the time to come, will history count them all,— Our saving sacrifice with gratitude remember,
And fame award, and glory, to us who bleed and fall?
And you, so far away, with hearts all free from anger,
Nourished by blessed ages, will you in tranquil hours
Recall our wrath and pain and fear, while maids with lily fingers
Upon our dust hereafter lay wreaths of shining flowers?
1916.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/Otho the Great. A Tragedy/Act 1 Scene 1

ACT I.
Scene I.—An Apartment in the Castle.
Enter.—Conrad.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/Otho the Great. A Tragedy/Act 1 Scene 3

Scene III.—The Country, with the Castle in the distance.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/Otho the Great. A Tragedy/Act 2 Scene 1

ACT II.
Scene I.—An ante-chamber in the Castle.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/Otho the Great. A Tragedy/Act 2 Scene 2

Scene II.—The entrance of Gersa's Tent in the Hungarian Camp.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/On first Looking into Chapman's Homer

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific—and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise— Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/On the Elgin Marbles

ON THE ELGIN MARBLES.
My spirit is too weak; mortality
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.
Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep,
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain,
Bring round the heart an indescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old Time—with a billowy main,
A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.
# The Poetical Works of John Keats/On a Dream

ON A DREAM.
As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept, So on a Delphic reed, my-idle spright,
So play'd, so charm'd, so conquer'd, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes,
And seeing it asleep, so fled away,
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day,
But to that second circle of sad Hell,
Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows,—pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kiss'd, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.
1819.