OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/Hills o' Caledonia

Hills o' Caledonia.
[Alexander Hume.—Air, "Hey, Donald, ho, Donald."—Here first printed.]
O years ha'e come, an' years ha'e gane, Sin' first I trod the warld alane, Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain On the hills o' Caledonia.
But now, alas! a' round is gloom, My ancient friends are in the tomb, And o'er them waves the heather bloom, On the hills o' Caledonia.
My father's name, my father's lot, Is like a tale that's heeded not, Or sang unsung, if no forgot, On the hills o' Caledonia.
O' a' our house there's left nae stane, A' swept away like snaw lang gane; Weeds flourish owre the auld domain, On the hills o' Caledonia.
The Tiot's banks are bare and high, The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by, Like some sad heart maist grutten dry On the hills o' Caledonia.
The birds sit silent on the tree, The wild flow'rs droop upon the lea, As if the kind things felt wi' me On the hills o' Caledonia.
But friends can live, though cauld they lie, If mirror'd in the memory; When we forget them—then they die On the hills o' Caledonia.
But though, however changed the scene, My mem'ry an' my feelings green, Yet green to my auld heart an' een Are the hills o' Caledonia.
# The Book of Scottish Song/How blythely the pipe

How blythely the pipe.
[Joseph Macgregor.—Air, "Kinloch of Kinloch."]
How blythely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding, At morn when the clans to the merry dance hied; And gay were the love-knots, o'er hearts fondly bonnding, When Ronald woo'd Flora, and made her his bride. But war's banner streaming, soon chang'd their fond dreaming,— The battle cry echoed around and above; Broad claymores were glancing, and war-steeds were prancing; Up, Ronald! to arms for home and your love.
All was hush'd o'er the hill, where love linger'd despairing, With her bride-maids still deek'd in their gay festal gear! And she wept as she saw them fresh garlands preparing, Which might laurel Love's brow, or be strew'd o'er his bier! But, cheer thee, fond maiden—each wild breeze is laden With victory's slogan, through mountain and grove; Where death streams were gushing, and war-steeds were rushing, Lord Ronald has conquer'd for home and for love!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Hill of Lochiel

Hill of Lochiel.
[James Hogg.]
Long have I pined for thee, Land of my infancy! Now will I kneel on thee, Hill of Lochiel! Hill of the sturdy steer, Hill of the roe and deer, Hill of the streamlet clear, I love thee well.
When in my youthful prime, Correi and crag to climb, Or towering cliff sublime, Was my delight Scaling the eagle's nest, Wounding the raven's breast, Skimming the mountain's crest, Gladsome and light.
When, at the break of morn, Proud o'er thy temples borne, Kythed the red-deer's horn, How my heart beat! Then, when with stunned leap Roll'd he adown the steep, Never did hero reap Conquest so great.
Then rose a bolder game, Young Charlie Stuart came; Cameron, that loyal name, Foremost must be. Hard then our warrior meed, Glorious our warrior deed, 'Till we were doom'd to bleed By treachery.
Then did the red blood stream, Then was the broad sword's gleam Quench'd in fair freedom's beam, No more to shine; Then was the morning's brow Red with the fiery glow, Fell hall and hamlet low, All that were mine.
Then was our maiden young, First aye in battle strong, Fired at her prince's wrong, Forced to give way. Broke was the golden cup, Gone Caledonia's hope; Faithful and true men drop Fast in the clay.
Far in a hostile land, Stretch'd on a foreign strand, Oft has the tear-drop bland Scorch'd as it fell. Once was I spurn'd from thee, Long have I mourn'd for thee, Now I'm return'd to thee, Hill of Lochiel.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Hooly and Fairly 2

Hooly and Fairly.
[Written by Joanna Baillie for George Thomson's collection of Scottish Melodies.]
Oh, neighbours! what had I ado for to marry, My wife she drinks possets and wine o' Canary, And ca's me a niggardly, thraw-gabbit early, O gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
She feasts wi' her kimmers on dainties enew, Aye bowing and smirking and dighting her mou', While I sit aside and am helpet but sparely, O gin my wife wad feast hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
To fairs and to bridals and preachings and a', She gangs sae light-hearted and busket sae braw, It's ribbons and mantuas that gars me gae barely, O gin my wife would spend hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
In the kirk sic commotion last sabbath she made, Wi' babs o' red roses and briest-knots o'erlaid, The dominie sticket his psalm very nearly, O gin my wife wad dress hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
She's warring and flyting frae morning till e'en, And if ye gainsay her, her eye glowrs sae keen! Then tongue, neive and cudgel, she'll lay on you sairly! O gin my wife wad strike hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
When tired wi' her cantraps, she lies in her bed, The wark a' neglecket, the house ill up-red, When a' our guid neighbours are stirring right early, O gin my wife wad sleep timely and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
A word o' good counsel or grace she'll hear none, She bardies the elders and mocks at mess John, And back in his teeth his ain text she flings rarely! O gin my wife wad speak hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, &c.
I wish I were single, I wish I were freed, I wish I were doited, I wish I were dead; Or she in the mools, to dement me nae mair, lay; What does't avail to cry hooly and fairly? Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly, Wasting my breath to cry hooly and fairly!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Hooly and Fairly 1

Hooly and Fairly.
[The words of this song belong to about the middle of the last century, but their author's name has escaped being recorded. They are to be found in a collection of songs, called The Charmer, published at Edinburgh in 1751, but whether printed there for the first time cannot with certainty be said. The title to the song there given is "The Druken Wife o' Gallowa'," which title it bears in common with "Hooly and Fairly." The air is supposed to be old.]
Doun in yon meadow a couple did tarry: The gudewife she drank naething but sack and canary; The gudeman complain'd to her friends richt sairly— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly, Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
First she drank Crummie, and syne she drank Gairie, And syne she drank my bonnie gray marie, That carried me through a' the dubs and the glairie— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
She drank her hose, she drank her shoon, And syne she drank her bonnie new goun; She drank her sark that cover'd her rarely— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
Wad she drink but her ain things, I wadna care, But she drinks my claes that I canna weel spare, When I'm wi' my gossips it angers me sairly— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
My Sunday's coat she's laid it in wad, And the best blue bonnet e'er was on my head; At kirk or at mercat I'm cover'd but barely— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
My bonnie white mittens I wore on my hands, Wi' her neibour's wife she laid them in pawns; My bane-headed staff that I looed sae dearly— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
I never was for wranglin' nor strife, Nor did I deny her the comforts o' life; For when there's a war, I'm aye for a parley— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
When there's ony money she maun keep the purse; If I seek but a bawbee she'll scold and she'll curse; She lives like a queen—I but scrimpit and sparely— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
A pint wi' her cummers I wad her allow; But when she sits down, oh, the jaud she gets fou, And when she is fou she is unco camstarie— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
When she comes to the street she roars and she rants, Has nae fear o' her neibours, nor minds the house wants; She rants up some fule-sang, like, Up your heart, Charlie!— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
When she comes hame she lays on the lads, The lasses she ca's baith bitches and jauds, And ca's mysell an auld cuckle-carlie— Oh gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly!
# The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy/Volume 18/The Kreutzer Sonata/Chapter 3

III.
"Well, then I will tell you— But do you really want me to?"
I repeated that I wanted it very much. He was silent for a moment, rubbed his face with his hands, and began:
"If I am to tell it to you, I must begin from the beginning: I must tell you how I married and why, and the kind of man I was previous to my marriage.
"Before my marriage I lived like everybody else, that is, in our circle. I am a landed proprietor and a graduate of the university, and was a marshal of nobility. I lived before my marriage like the rest, that is, in debauchery, and, like all the people of our circle, I was convinced that, living in debauchery, I was living as was proper. I thought of myself that I was a nice fellow and entirely moral. I was not a seducer, had no unnatural tastes, did not make it the chief purpose of my life, as many of my contemporaries are doing, and abandoned myself to debauchery in a moderate and decent way, for health's sake. I avoided all such women as by bearing a child or by attachment for me might tie my hands. However, there may have been children and attachments, but I acted as though they did not exist. And this I not only regarded as moral, but I even was proud of it—"
He stopped, emitted his strange sound, as he always did whenever, apparently, a new thought struck him.
"Herein lies the main villainy," he exclaimed. "Debauchery is not anything physical,—no physical excess is debauchery,—debauchery, real debauchery, lies in free​ing oneself from the moral relations with a woman, with whom one enters into physical communion. It was this liberation on which I prided myself. I remember how I was once tormented when I was not able to pay a woman who, having evidently fallen in love with me, had abandoned herself to me, and how my conscience was appeased only when I sent her the money, by which I showed that I morally did not regard myself as in the least under any obligations to her. Don't shake your head as though you agreed with me," he suddenly called out to me. "I know all about that. All of you, and you, too, if by some rare chance you are not an exception, hold the same views which I once held. Well, never mind, pardon me," he continued, "but the main thing is, this is terrible, terrible, terrible!"
"What is terrible?" I asked.
"That abyss of delusions in which we live as regards women and our relations with them. Yes, I cannot speak of this calmly, not because this episode, as he called it, has happened to me, but because, when this episode happened to me, my eyes were opened; and I suddenly saw everything in an entirely different light,—everything topsyturvy, everything topsyturvy!"
He lighted a cigarette and, leaning on his knees, began to speak.
I could not see his face in the darkness of the car, but above the rumbling of the car I heard his impressive and pleasant voice.
# The Ballads of Marko Kraljević/Marko Kraljević and the Falcon

MARKO KRALJEVIĆ AND THE FALCON
Marko Kraljević fell sick
By the roadside, by the way of heroes,
Beside his head he thrust in his spear,
And to his spear he tethered Sharatz.
And thus spake Kraljević Marko:
"If one should give me water to drink,
If one should make a shade for me,
Such an one would win a place for his soul."
Thither sped a falcon—that grey bird—
In his beak he carried water to him,10 And gave to Marko water to drink.
He spread out his wings over Marko,
And so he contrived shade for Marko;
And Kraljević Marko said:
"O falcon, grey bird of mine,
What service have I done thee ever,
That thou shouldst give me water to drink,
And shouldst contrive a shade for me?"
The falcon bird made answer:
"Jest not, Kraljević Marko!20 When we were in Kossovo battle.
And endured fierce onslaught of the Turks,
The Turks took me,
And clipped both my wings.
Then thou tookest me in, Marko,
And didst set me on a green fir-tree,
That the Turkish horses might not destroy me.
Thou gavest me the flesh of heroes to eat,
And red blood thou gavest me to drink,
'Twas then, O Marko, that thou didest me service!"30
# The Ballads of Marko Kraljević/Note on Pronunciation

NOTE ON PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES
In order to avoid some of the difficulties of transliteration the Croatian alphabet has been generally used throughout the book.
| š = | English | sh | as in | ship |
| č = | English„ | ch | as in„ | chill |
| ž = | French | j | as in„ | jour |
| dž = | English | j | as in„ | James |
| ć = | English„ | ty | as in„ | Luttyens |
| c = | English„ | ts | as in„ | rats |
| j = | English„ | y | as in„ | yes |
Examples: Šarac; Jabučilo; Samodreža; Kesedžija.
# The Ballads of Marko Kraljević/Marko Kraljević and the Twelve Moors

MARKO KRALJEVIĆ AND THE TWELVE MOORS
Kraljević Marko set up his pavilion
In the harsh country of the Moors.
He sate him down to drink wine in his pavilion,
But or ever he had drained the glass,
A slave-girl came and ran,
And entered into the tent of Kraljević Marko.
Therewithal she began to beseech Marko:
"Brother-in-God, Kraljević Marko,
By the most high God, and by Saint John,
Save me from the Moors this day.10 For I am come into the hands of three, And this day I go to the fourth
Of twelve Moorish brethren, And they entreat me not as wont is, But scourge me with a threefold scourge, And constrain me to kiss them.
Unhappy that I am! I may not suffer to look upon them, Far less to bestow upon them kisses!"
Marko took her by the hand, He made her to sit down by his right knee, 20 And covered her with a figured mantle.
In her hand he set a glass of wine.
"There, damsel!" quoth he, "Drink thy fill, This day hath the sun risen upon thee, Since thou art come to me into my tent."
Scarce had the damsel taken the glass
And raised it up for to drink the wine, When lo, the twelve Moors were come
On twelve Arab coursers.
And forth withal they reviled Marko: 30 "Thou whore! Kraljević Marko,
Art thou become another ruler over the land,
That thou takest from Moors their slave-girls?"
Kraljević Marko laughed:
"Get ye hence," quoth he, "Moorish children,
That I lay no sin upon my soul because of you."
But the twelve Moors waxed wonderly wroth,
And every each of them drew sword, And overthrew the tent upon Marko.
They cut through the tent ropes 40 That the tent fell down upon the falcon Marko,
And on his battle-flag that bare the rood, And upon Sharatz his stout steed.
When Kraljević Marko perceived
That his silken tent was overturned
Marko's wrath blazed up like living fire.
Lightly he leapt to his feet, And seized great Sharatz.
To horse he sprang behind the damsel, Three times he girdled her with his girdle,50 And the fourth with his sword-belt. Then he pulled out his well-forged sword, And so ran on the Moors.
Not to the white throat he carved them,
But he carved them even to the silken girdle;
One man became two, Out of twelve Marko made twice so many, Of twelve Moors he made four and twenty.
And so he passed athwart the level plain, Like a star athwart a clear sky. 60 Straight to Prilep town he went
To his white manor.
He called Jevrosima his mother:
"Jevrosima," quoth he, "mine aged mother, Mother, my sweet, dear one, Behold, mother, my sister-in-God.
Nourish her, mother, as thou hast nourished me. Give her in marriage as she were thine own daughter,
That in this wise we may gain friends."
Jevrosima, the matron, nourished her, 70 Yea, and gave her in marriage
In Rudnik the white town, In the great house of Dizdarić Where were nine fair brethren.
Thence had Marko strong friends, And oft would he visit his sister-in-God, As she had been his own born sister, And there full oft he quaffed the wine-cup.
# The Ballads of Marko Kraljević/Marko Kraljević and the Falcon (Variant)

MARKO KRALJEVIĆ AND THE FALCON (Variant)
Marko lay beside the Sultan's highway,
He wrapped him about in a green dolman,
He covered his face with a silver-worked kerchief,
He struck his spear into the ground upright,
And to the spear-shaft he tethered Sharatz.
On the spear sat an eagle—that grey bird—
He spread his wings, he made shade for Marko,
And in his beak he bare cold water
And gave to the wounded hero to drink.
Then from the woody hill the Vila called: 10 "God keep us—thou grey eagle-bird!
What kindness hath he showed thee ever,
Hath Marko Kraljević showed thee ever.
That thou spreadest thy wings to make a shade for him,
That in thy beak thou bearest cold water
And givest to the wounded hero to drink?"
But the eagle, that grey bird, made answer:
"Hold thy peace, Vila, be thou stricken dumb!
What hath he not done for me?
What hath not Marko Kraljević done for me?20 Thereof shalt thou well wit and know.
When the army perished at Kossovo,
And both Emperors were slain,
Even Knez Lazar and Sultan Murad,
The blood that fell reached to the horses' stirrups,
Yea, and to the silken girdles of the knights,
That horses and knights swam therein,
Horse against horse, hero against hero!
And we birds flew thither anhungered,
Anhungered and athirst we flew,30 We did eat of the flesh of heroes
And of the blood of heroes we did drink;
Anon my wings grew wet with blood,
The sun shined down from a clear sky withal,
And my wings waxed stiff,
That with my wings I might not fly.
But my companions flew thence,
And I remained in the midst of the level plain,
And the horses and the heroes trampled me under foot!
But God brought Kraljević Marko thither, 40 He took me from the blood of heroes,
And set me beside him on Sharatz;
He bore me to the greenwood, And set me upon a fir branch.
From the skies there fell a slender rain
And my wings were cleansed,
That with my wings I might fly,
Yea, fly over the greenwood
For to join me with my fellows.
Yet another kindness he showed me, 50 Marko Kraljević showed me another kindness,
Thereof shalt thou well wit and know.
When the town on Kossovo plain went up in flames,
And in flames went up the tower of Hadji Aga,
My eaglets were there;
Marko Kraljević gathered them together,
He gathered them in his silken bosom
And bore them to his white manor.
He fed them a full month of days,
A full month and a week of days; 60 He set them free in the greenwood,
And I found my eaglets once again.
Thus did Marko for my sake!"
And men think of Kraljević Marko,
As of a lucky day in the year.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Löwe, Sophie

Edition of 1879. See also Sophie Löwe on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
LÖWE, Sophie, a German vocalist, born in Oldenburg, March 24, 1815, died in Pesth, Nov. 29, 1866. She studied under Cicemarra in Vienna, and made her first appearance there in opera in 1832. Subsequently she won much applause in Berlin, especially as Susanne in “Figaro;” but she was more successful in Germany and Italy than in Paris. She had a magnificent voice and an imposing style of beauty. She retired from the opera
in 1848, on her marriage with the Austrian general Prince Frederick of Liechtenstein.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Madison (post village)

Edition of 1879. See also Madison, New Jersey and Madison, Georgia on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MADISON. I. A post village of Chatham township, Morris co., New Jersey, on the Morris and Essex division of the Delaware, Lackawanna, and Western railroad, 24 m. W. of New York; pop. about 3,000. It is the seat of Drew theological seminary, chartered in 1866, and organized in 1867. This institution was founded by the Methodists, and named in honor of Daniel Drew of New York, who gave $250,000 for its establishment, which sum has been increased by successive donations to nearly $1,000,000. The grounds comprise 95 acres, the greater portion of which is handsomely laid out with walks and drives, and adorned with trees and shrubbery. The three seminary buildings are situated near the centre, and are flanked on either hand by the professors' residences. The number of professors and instructors in 1873-'4 was 8, besides several lecturers; number of students, 104, of whom 28 were in introductory classes and 15 in special courses; volumes in the library, 10,000; alumni, 54. The regular course comprises three years. The introductory course is two years, corresponding to the freshman and sophomore years of most colleges. II. A post village and the capital of Morgan co., Georgia, on the Georgia railroad, 60 m. E. by S. of Atlanta, and 175 m. N. W. of Savannah; pop. in 1870, 1,389, of whom 770 were colored. It is pleasantly situated in the midst of a fertile country, from which it derives an active trade. It has a weekly newspaper, and is the seat of the Georgia female college (Baptist), established in 1850, which in 1873 had 5 instructors and 58 students.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Maelstrom

Edition of 1879. See also Moskstraumen on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MAELSTROM (Norw. malestrøm, grinding or whirling stream), an ocean current or whirlpool off the coast of Norway S. W. of the Loffoden islands, in lat. 67° 48′ N. and lon. 12° E. It runs between the islands of Vær and Moskenes, or rather between Moskenes and a large solitary rock which lies in the middle of the strait dividing Moskenes from Vær. It is produced by the currents of the Great West fiord. The old account of this whirlpool represents it as terrific, swallowing down ships and even whales; but this was mere exaggeration. According to a statement (1859) by Hagerup, minister of the Norwegian marine, and by Major Vibe, superintendent of the Norwegian hydrographic surveys, who personally examined the Maelstrom and made official reports upon it, when the wind is steady and not too violent, boats may venture upon the whirlpool in summer at flood or ebb tide, when it is still for about half an hour. At the point half way between flood and ebb it is most violent, and boats would then be in danger. At certain times it may be passed at any state of the tide by steamers and by large ships with a steady wind. But in winter and in storms it would be highly dangerous for any vessel to attempt to pass the Maelstrom. During a storm blowing from the west, the stream in winter runs continually to the east at the rate of six knots an hour, without changing its direction with the rising or falling tide; and if at such a time the tide is rising, the stream becomes entirely unnavigable. At certain states of the wind and tide in winter the whole stream boils in mighty whirls, against which the largest steamer could not successfully contend. These whirls, however, would not draw vessels to the bottom as was formerly believed, but would destroy them by dashing them against the rocks, or in case of small vessels by filling them and thus causing them to founder. There is no reason to suppose that the Maelstrom has been changed by any convulsion, or by the wearing away of the rocks.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Magnus, Eduard

Edition of 1879. See also Eduard Magnus on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MAGNUS, Eduard, a German painter, born in Berlin, Jan. 7, 1799, died there, Aug. 9, 1872. He studied in Berlin and in Rome, and became known as a member and professor of the Berlin academy and as a portrait painter. He published Ueber Einrichtung und Beleuchtung von Räumen zur Aufstellung von Gemälden und Sculpturen (Berlin, 1864), and Die Polychromie vom künstlerischen Standpunkte (Bonn, 1872).