OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Cinema Murder/Advertisements

NOVELS by E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
He is past master of the art of telling a story. He has humor, a keen sense of the dramatic, and a knack of turning out a happy ending just when the complications of the plot threaten worse disasters.—New York Times.
Mr. Oppenheim has few equals among modern novelists. He is prolific, he is untiring in the invention of mysterious plots, he is a clever weaver of the plausible with the sensational, and he has the necessary gift of facile narrative.—Boston Transcript.
A Prince of Sinners
Mysterious Mr. Sabin
The Master Mummer
A Maker of History
The Malefactor
A Millionaire of Yesterday
The Man and His Kingdom
The Betrayal
The Yellow Crayon
The Traitors
Enoch Strone
A Sleeping Memory
A Lost Leader
The Great Secret
The Avenger
The Long Arm of Mannister
The Governors
Jeanne of the Marshes
The Illustrious Prince
The Lost Ambassador
The Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown
A Daughter of the Marionis
Berenice
The Moving Finger
Havoc
Peter Ruff and the Double-Four
The Lighted Way
The Tempting of Tavernake
The Mischief-Maker
The World's Great Snare
The Survivor
The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton
Those Other Days
A People's Man
The Vanished Messenger
Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo
The Double Traitor
The Way of These Women
Mr. Marx's Secret
An Amiable Charlatan
The Kingdom of the Blind
The Hillman
LITTLE. BROWN & CO.. Publishers, BOSTON
# The Cid/Preface

Cid Campeador is the name given in histories, traditions and songs to the most celebrated of Spain's national heroes.
His real name was Rodrigo or Ruy Diaz (i.e. "son of Diego"), a Castilian noble by birth. He was born at Burgos about the year 1040.
There is so much of the mythical in the history of this personage that hypercritical writers, such as Masdeu, have doubted his existence; but recent researches have succeeded in separating the historical from the romantic.
Under Sancho II, son of Ferdinand, he served as commander of the royal troops. In a war between the two brothers, Sancho II. and Alfonso VI. of Leon, due to some dishonorable stratagem on the part of Rodrigo, Sancho was victorious and his brother was forced to seek refuge with the Moorish King of Toledo.
In 1072 Sancho was assassinated at the siege of Zamora, and as he left no heir the Castilians had to acknowledge Alfonso as King. Although Alfonso never forgave the Cid for having, as leader of the Castilians, compelled him to swear that he (the Cid) had no hand in the murder of his brother Sancho, as a conciliatory measure, he gave his cousin Ximena, daughter of the Count of Oviedo, to the Cid in marriage, but afterwards, in 1081, when he found himself firmly seated on the throne, yielding to his own feelings of resentment and incited by the Leonese nobles, he banished him from the kingdom.
At the head of a large body of followers, the Cid joined the Moorish King of Saragossa, in whose service he fought against both Moslems and Christians. It was probably during this exile that he was first called the Cid, an Arabic title, which means the _lord_. He was very successful in all his battles.
In conjunction with Mostain, grandson of Moctadir, he invaded Valencia in 1088, but afterwards carried on operations alone, and finally, after a long siege, made himself master of the city in June, 1094. He retained possession of Valencia for five years and reigned like an independent sovereign over one of the richest territories in the Peninsula, but died suddenly in 1099 of anger and grief on hearing that his relative, Alvar Fañez, had been vanquished and the army which he had sent to his assistance had been defeated.
After the Cid's death his wife held Valencia till 1102, when she was obliged to yield to the Almoravides and fly to Castile, where she died in 1104. Her remains were placed by those of her lord in the monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña.
# The Cinderella Cat

* related portals: Brothers Grimm.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
English-language translations of La Gatta Cennerentola include:
* "Cenerentola", translated by John Edward Taylor, in The Pentamerone, or The Story of Stories (1850)
* "Cinderella", translated by Thomas Frederick Crane, in Italian Popular Tales, 1885
* Cenerentola, edited by Edward Fairbrother Strange, illustrated by Warwick Goble (1911)
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 Art of War (Machiavelli)

English-language translations of Dell'arte della guerra include:
* The Arte of Warre translated by Peter Whitehorne, (1560) (transcription project)
* The Art of War, translated by Edward Dacres (1640)
* The Art of War translated by Henry Neville, (1675) (transcription project)
* A Translation of Part of the First Book of Machiavell's Art of War translated by Anonymous (1744) (transcription project)
* The Art of War, translated by Ellis Farneworth (1762)
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Remembrance

REMEMBRANCE
WITH COPIES OF THE AUTHOR’S WRITINGS
Friend of mine! whose lot was cast With me in the distant past; Where, like shadows flitting fast,
Fact and fancy, thought and theme, Word and work, begin to seem Like a half-remembered dream!
Touched by change have all things been, Yet I think of thee as when We had speech of lip and pen.
For the calm thy kindness lent To a path of discontent, Rough with trial and dissent;
Gentle words where such were few, Softening blame where blame was true, Praising where small praise was due;
For a waking dream made good, For an ideal understood, For thy Christian womanhood;
For thy marvellous gift to cull From our common life and dull Whatsoe’er is beautiful;
Thoughts and fancies, Hybla’s bees Dropping sweetness; true heart’s-ease Of congenial sympathies;—
Still for these I own my debt; Memory, with her eyelids wet, Fain would thank thee even yet!
And as one who scatters flowers Where the Queen of May’s sweet hours Sits, o’ertwined with blossomed bowers,
In superfluous zeal bestowing Gifts where gifts are overflowing, So I pay the debt I ’m owing.
To thy full thoughts, gay or sad, Sunny-hued or sober clad, Something of my own I add;
Well assured that thou wilt take Even the offering which I make Kindly for the giver’s sake.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Saint Gregory's Guest

SAINT GREGORY'S GUEST
“Thy prayers and alms have risen, and bloom Sweetly among the flowers of heaven. I am The Wonderful, through whom Whate’er thou askest shall be given.”
He spake and vanished. Gregory fell With his twelve guests in mute accord Prone on their faces, knowing well Their eyes of flesh had seen the Lord.
The old-time legend is not vain; Nor vain thy art, Verona’s Paul, Telling it o’er and o’er again On gray Vicenza’s frescoed wall.
Still wheresoever pity shares Its bread with sorrow, want, and sin, And love the beggar’s feast prepares, The uninvited Guest comes in.
Unheard, because our ears are dull, Unseen, because our eyes are dim, He walks our earth, The Wonderful, And all good deeds are done to Him.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Seed-Time and Harvest

SEED-TIME AND HARVEST
As o’er his furrowed fields which lie Beneath a coldly dropping sky, Yet chill with winter’s melted snow, The husbandman goes forth to sow.
Thus, Freedom, on the bitter blast The ventures of thy seed we cast, And trust to warmer sun and rain To swell the germs and fill the grain.
Who calls thy glorious service hard? Who deems it not its own reward? Who, for its trials, counts it less A cause of praise and thankfulness?
It may not be our lot to wield The sickle in the ripened field; Nor ours to hear, on summer eves, The reaper’s song among the sheaves.
Yet where our duty’s task is wrought In unison with God’s great thought, The near and future blend in one, And whatsoe’er is willed, is done!
And ours the grateful service whence Comes day by day the recompense; The hope, the trust, the purpose stayed, The fountain and the noonday shade.
And were this life the utmost span, The only end and aim of man, Better the toil of fields like these Than waking dream and slothful ease.
But life, though falling like our grain, Like that revives and springs again; And, early called, how blest are they Who wait in heaven their harvest-day!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Requirement

REQUIREMENT
We live by Faith; but Faith is not the slave Of text and legend. Reason’s voice and God’s, Nature’s and Duty’s, never are at odds. What asks our Father of His children, save Justice and mercy and humility, A reasonable service of good deeds, Pure living, tenderness to human needs, Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see The Master’s footprints in our daily ways? No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife, But the calm beauty of an ordered life Whose very breathing is unworded praise!— A life that stands as all true lives have stood, Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Requital

REQUITAL
As Islam’s Prophet, when his last day drew Nigh to its close, besought all men to say Whom he had wronged, to whom he then should pay A debt forgotten, or for pardon sue, And, through the silence of his weeping friends, A strange voice cried: “Thou owest me a debt,” “Allah be praised!” he answered. “Even yet He gives me power to make to thee amends. O friend! I thank thee for thy timely word.” So runs the tale. Its lesson all may heed, For all have sinned in thought, or word, or deed, Or, like the Prophet, through neglect have erred, All need forgiveness, all have debts to pay Ere the night cometh, while it still is day.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Response

RESPONSE
On the occasion of my seventieth birthday, in 1877, I was the recipient of many tokens of esteem. The publishers of the Atlantic Monthly gave a dinner in my name, and the editor of The Literary World gathered in his paper many affectionate messages from my associates in literature and the cause of human progress. The lines which follow were written in acknowledgment.
Beside that milestone where the level sun, Nigh unto setting, sheds his last, low rays On word and work irrevocably done, Life’s blending threads of good and ill outspun, I hear, O friends! your words of cheer and praise, Half doubtful if myself or otherwise, Like him who, in the old Arabian joke, A beggar slept and crownëd Caliph woke. Thanks not the less. With not unglad surprise I see my life-work through your partial eyes; Assured, in giving to my home-taught songs A higher value than of right belongs, You do but read between the written lines The finer grace of unfulfilled designs.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Revelation

REVELATION
Still, as of old, in Beavor’s Vale, O man of God! our hope and faith The Elements and Stars assail, And the awed spirit holds its breath, Blown over by a wind of death.
Takes Nature thought for such as we, What place her human atom fills, The weed-drift of her careless sea, The mist on her unheeding hills? What recks she of our helpless wills?
Strange god of Force, with fear, not love, Its trembling worshipper! Can prayer Reach the shut ear of Fate, or move Unpitying Energy to spare? What doth the cosmic Vastness care?
In vain to this dread Unconcern For the All-Father’s love we look; In vain, in quest of it, we turn The storied leaves of Nature’s book, The prints her rocky tablets took.
I pray for faith, I long to trust; I listen with my heart, and hear A Voice without a sound: “Be just, Be true, be merciful, revere The Word within thee: God is near!
“A light to sky and earth unknown Pales all their lights: a mightier force Than theirs the powers of Nature own, And, to its goal as at its source, His Spirit moves the Universe.
“Believe and trust. Through stars and suns, Through life and death, through soul and sense, His wise, paternal purpose runs; The darkness of His providence Is star-lit with benign intents.”
O joy supreme! I know the Voice, Like none beside on earth or sea; Yea, more, O soul of mine, rejoice, By all that He requires of me, I know what God himself must be.
No picture to my aid I call, I shape no image in my prayer; I only know in Him is all Of life, light, beauty, everywhere, Eternal Goodness here and there!
I know He is, and what He is, Whose one great purpose is the good Of all. I rest my soul on His Immortal Love and Fatherhood; And trust Him, as His children should.
I fear no more. The clouded face Of Nature smiles; through all her things Of time and space and sense I trace The moving of the Spirit’s wings, And hear the song of hope she sings.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Song of Slaves in the Desert

SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT
[Suggested by a passage in Richardson’s Journal in Africa.]
Where are we going? where are we going, Where are we going, Rubee? Lord of peoples, lord of lands, Look across these shining sands, Through the furnace of the noon, Through the white light of the moon. Strong the Ghiblee wind is blowing, Strange and large the world is growing! Speak and tell us where we are going, Where are we going, Rubee?
Bornou land was rich and good, Wells of water, fields of food, Dourra fields, and bloom of bean, And the palm-tree cool and green: Bornou laud we see no longer, Here we thirst and here we hunger, Here the Moor-man smites in anger: Where are we going, Rubee?
When we went from Bornou land, We were like the leaves and sand, We were many, we are few; Life has one, and death has two: Whitened bones our path are showing, Thou All-seeing, thou All-knowing! Hear us, tell us, where are we going, Where are we going, Rubee?
Moons of marches from our eyes Bornou land behind us lies; Stranger round us day by day Bends the desert circle gray; Wild the waves of sand are flowing, Hot the winds above them blowing,— Lord of all things! where are we going? Where are we going, Rubee?
We are weak, but Thou art strong; Short our lives, but Thine is long; We are blind, but Thou hast eyes; We are fools, but Thou art wise! Thou, our morrow’s pathway knowing Through the strange world round us growing, Hear us, tell us where are we going, Where are we going, Rubee?
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night/Volume 3

The Book of the One Thousand and One Nights (Arabic: كتاب ألف ليلة وليلة‎ - kitāb 'alf layla wa-layla; Persian: هزار و یک شب - Hezār-o yek šab) is a collection of stories collected over many centuries by various authors, translators and scholars in various countries.
للأبرار كلّ شيء بر‎
"TO THE PURE ALL THINGS ARE PURE" (Puris omnia para)
—Arab Proverb.
"Niuna corrotta mente intese mai sanamente parole."
—"Decameron"—conclusion.
"Erubuit, posuitque meum Lucretia librum Sed coram Bruto. Brute I recede, leget."
—Martial.
"Mieulx est de ris que de larmes escripre, Pour ce que rire est le propre des hommes."
—Rabelais.
"The pleasure we derive from perusing the Thousand-and-One Stories makes us regret that we possess only a comparatively small part of these truly enchanting fictions."
—Crichton's "History of Arabia.
PLAIN AND LITERAL TRANSLATION OF THE
ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS, NOW
ENTITULED
THE BOOK OF THE
Thousand Nights and a Night
WITH INTRODUCTION EXPLANATORY NOTES ON THE
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF MOSLEM MEN AND A
TERMINAL ESSAY UPON THE HISTORY OF THE
NIGHTS
VOLUME III.
BY
RICHARD F. BURTON
PRINTED BY THE BURTON CLUB FOR PRIVATE
SUBSCRIBERS ONLY
Bassorah Edition
Limited to one thousand numbered sets, of which this is
Number 367
of
A Friend
Who During A Friendship of Twenty-Six Years
Ever Showed Me The Most
Unwearied Kindness
Richard Monckton Milnes
Baron Houghton.
CONTENTS OF THE THIRD VOLUME
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/Yehya Ben Khalid the Barmecide and the Poor Man

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
YEHYA BEN KHALID THE BARMECIDE AND THE POOR MAN.
Yehya ben Khalid the Barmecide was returning home, one day, from the Khalif’s palace, when he saw a man at the gate of his house, who rose at his approach and saluted him, saying, ‘O Yehya, I am in need of that which is in thy hand, and I make God my intermediary with thee.’ So Yehya caused set apart a place for him in his house and bade his treasurer carry him a thousand dirhems every day and that his food should be of the choicest of his own meat. The man abode thus a whole month, at the end of which time, having received in all thirty thousand dirhems, he departed by stealth, fearing lest Yehya should take the money from him, because of the greatness of the sum; Night cccxcii.and when they told Yehya of this, he said, ‘By Allah, though he had tarried with me to the end of his days, yet had I not scanted him of my largesse nor cut off from him the bounties of my hospitality!’ For, indeed, the excellences of the Barmecides were past count nor can their virtues ​be told; especially those of Yehya ben Khalid, for he abounded in noble qualities, even as saith the poet of him:
I asked munificence, “Art free?” It answered, “No, perdie! Yehya ben Khalid’s slave am I; my lord and master he.” “A boughten slave?” asked I; but, “Nay, so heaven forfend!” quoth it. “From ancestor to ancestor he did inherit me.”
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 a Night

The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night (Arabic: كتاب ألف ليلة وليلة‎‎ kitāb alf laylah wa-laylah) is a collection of stories collected over many centuries by various authors, translators and scholars.
This edition of Burton's translation restored the material censored by his wife Isabel in her edition. This was one of several limited and numbered editions privately printed for members of the "Burton Club".
* Primary volumes (10)
** Volume 1 (transcription project)
    The Translator's Foreword
** Volume 2 (transcription project)
** Volume 3 (transcription project)
** Volume 4 (transcription project)
** Volume 5 (transcription project)
** Volume 6 (transcription project)
** Volume 7 (transcription project)
** Volume 8 (transcription project)
** Volume 9 (transcription project)
** Volume 10 (transcription project)
* Supplementary Volumes (6)
** Volume 11: Supplemental Nights (transcription project)
** Volume 12: Supplemental Nights
** Volume 13: Supplemental Nights
** Volume 14: Supplemental Nights
** Volume 15: Supplemental Nights
** Volume 16: Supplemental Nights
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CLI Margot

CLI
921, 21ST STREET, LOS ANGELES,
23rd December, 1899.
MY DEAR MARGOT, (Margaret E. Noble or Sister Nivedita)
Yes, I am really getting well under the manipulations of magnetic healing! At any rate I am all right. There was, never anything serious with my organs — it was nerves and dyspepsia.
Now I walk miles every day, at any time — before or after meals. I am perfectly well — and am going to remain so, I am sure.
The wheel is turning up, Mother is working it up. She cannot let me go before Her work is done — and that is the secret.
See, how England is working up. After this blood-letting, (Swamiji refers to the Boer war.) people will then have time of thinking better and higher things than "war", "war", "war". That is our opportunity. We run in quick, get hold of them by the dozens and then set the Indian work in full swing.
I pray that England will lose Cape Colony, so that she will be able to concentrate her energy on India. These capes and promontories never are of any use to England except in puffing up a false pride and costing her hordes in money and blood.
Things are looking up. So get ready. With all love to the four sisters and to you,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CLVI Nivedita

CLVI
SAN FRANCISCO,
25th March, 1900.
DEAR NIVEDITA,
I am much better and am growing very strong. I feel sometimes that freedom is near at hand, and the tortures of the last two years have been great lessons in many ways. Disease and misfortune come to do us good in the long run, although at the time we feel that we are submerged for ever.
I am the infinite blue sky; the clouds may gather over me, but I am the same infinite blue.
I am trying to get a taste of that peace which I know is my nature and everyone's nature. These tin pots of bodies and foolish dreams of happiness and misery — what are they?
My dreams are breaking. Om Tat Sat!
Yours,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CLII Margot

CLII
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA,
24th Jan., 1900.
DEAR MARGOT, (Margaret E. Noble or Sister Nivedita)
I am afraid that the rest and peace I seek for will never come. But Mother does good to others through me, at least some to my native land, and it is easier to be reconciled to one's fate as a sacrifice. We are all sacrifices — each in his own way. The great work is going on — no one can see its meaning except that it is a great sacrifice. Those that are willing escape a lot of pain. Those who resist are broken into submission and suffer more. I am now determined to be a willing one.
Yours etc.,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CLV Nivedita

CLV
SAN FRANCISCO,
4th March, 1900.
DEAR NIVEDITA,
I don't want to work. I want to be quiet and rest. I know the time and the place; but the fate or Karma, I think, drives me on — work, work. We are like cattle driven to the slaughter-house — hastily nibbling a bite of grass on the roadside as they are driven along under the whip. And all this is our work, our fear — fear, the beginning of misery, of disease, etc. By being nervous and fearful we injure others, by being so fearful to hurt we hurt more. By trying so much to avoid evil we fall into its jaws.
What a mass of namby-pamby nonsense we create round ourselves!! It does us no good, it leads us on to the very thing we try to avoid — misery. ...
Oh, to become fearless, to be daring, to be careless of everything! . . .
Yours etc.,
VIVEKANANDA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 6/Epistles - Second Series/CLIX Nivedita

CLIX
NEW YORK
20th June, 1900.
DEAR NIVEDITA,
. . . Well, Mother seems to be kind again and the wheel is slowly rising up. . . .
Yours etc.
VIVEKANANDA.