OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Fleet Prison

Edition of 1920. See also Fleet Prison on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
FLEET PRISON, or FLEET, a historic prison in London, so called from its situation by the side of the Fleet (q.v.). In it were confined debtors, bankrupts and persons committed for contempt of the courts of chancery, exchequer and common pleas. It existed from the 12th century until its abolition in 1846. During its long existence it housed temporarily many prominent persons, amongst whom may be mentioned William Penn, who was there in 1707. A vivid description of its life, customs and abuses may be read in Dickens' ‘Pickwick Papers.’ Perhaps the most outstanding of the last were the so-called “Fleet Marriages” (q.v.).
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Fleet Marriages

Edition of 1920. See also Fleet Marriage on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
FLEET MARRIAGES, irregular and clandestine marriages performed by imprisoned clergymen in Fleet prison, London, after 1696, when by Act of Parliament a penalty of £100 was imposed on any clergyman who celebrated a marriage otherwise than by banns or license. To the imprisoned clergymen in the Fleet prison such a law had no terrors for they had neither liberty, money nor credit. Marriages had been performed in the prison and vicinity from 1613 onward, but it was only after the passage of the act referred to that they became clandestine. The great expense of the public ceremony was the impelling motive of these clandestine marriages and many tavern-keepers near the prison kept a room fitted as a chapel for their performance. The scandals and abuses incident to such a system became so great that they became the object of special legislation in 1753, when an act was passed, which required, under pain of nullity, that banns should be published according to the rubric or a license obtained, and that, in either case, the
marriage should be solemnized in church. This effectually put an end to clandestine marriages in England, and thereafter couples were obliged to travel to Gretna Green. The original records of such marriages, celebrated between 1686 and 1774, are called Fleet books or Fleet registers. They are now kept at Somerset House, London. Consult Ashton, J., ‘The Fleet, its River, Prison and Marriages’ (London 1888); Burn, J. S., ‘The Fleet Registers, etc.’ (London 1833).
# The Girl on the Boat

CONTENTS
* WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT
* ONE MOMENT!
* I. A DISTURBING MORNING
* II. GALLANT RESCUE BY WELL-DRESSED YOUNG MAN
* III. SAM PAVES THE WAY
* IV. SAM CLICKS
* V. PERSECUTION OF EUSTACE
* VI. SCENE AT A SHIP'S CONCERT
* VII. SUNDERED HEARTS
* VIII. SIR MALLABY OFFERS A SUGGESTION
* IX. ROUGH WORK AT A DINNER TABLE
* X. TROUBLE AT WINDLES
* XI. MR. BENNETT HAS A BAD NIGHT
* XII. THE LURID PAST OF JOHN PETERS
* XIII. SHOCKS ALL ROUND
* XIV. STRONG REMARKS BY A FATHER
* XV. DRAMA AT A COUNTRY HOUSE
* XVI. WEBSTER, FRIEND IN NEED
* XVII. A CROWDED NIGHT
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 1975, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 48 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 Girl of my Heart

* "I have parks, I have grounds", in Dugald MacTaggart (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Girl of my Heart", in The Lover's Songster (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Newcastle
* "The Girl O' My Heart", in Highland plaid (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Girl of My Heart", in The Death of Wolfe (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Girl of My Heart", in Excellent new song, called, The sprig of shilale, &c. (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
# The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 1

i
SPRING
# The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 10

x
ABSENCE
# The Golden Threshold/Songs for Music/Humayun to Zobeida

HUMAYUN TO ZOBEIDA
(From the Urdu)
You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan.
You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune.
Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, "I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face."
​Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss?
What war is this of Thee and Me? Give o'er the wanton strife, You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life.
# The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1

The Golden Treasury
Book First
* Poem I: Spring
* Poem II: Summons to Love
* Poem III: Time and Love, part 1
* Poem IV: Time and Love, part 2
* Poem V: The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
* Poem VI: A Madrigal
* Poem VII
* Poem VIII
* Poem IX: Present in Absence
* Poem X: Absence
* Poem XI
* Poem XII: A Consolation
* Poem XIII: The Unchangeable
* Poem XIV
* Poem XV: Diaphenia
* Poem XVI: Rosaline
* Poem XVII: Colin
* Poem XVIII: To His Love
* Poem XIX: To His Love
* Poem XX: Love's Perjuries
* Poem XXI: Love's Supplication
* Poem XXII: To Aurora
* Poem XXIII: True Love
* Poem XXIV: A Ditty
* Poem XXV: Love's Omnipresence
* Poem XXVI: Carpe Diem
* Poem XXVII: Winter
* Poem XXVIII
* Poem XXIX: Remembrance
* Poem XXX: Revolutions
* Poem XXXI
* Poem XXXII: The Life Without Passion
* Poem XXXIII: The Lover's Appeal
* Poem XXXIV: The Nightingale
* Poem XXXV
* Poem XXXVI: Madrigal
* Poem XXXVII: Love's Farewell
* Poem XXXVIII: To His Lute
* Poem XXXIX: Blind Love
* Poem XL: The Unfaithful Shepherdess
* Poem XLI: A Renunciation
* Poem XLII
* Poem XLIII: Madrigal
* Poem XLIV: Dirge of Love
* Poem XLV: Fidele
* Poem XLVI: A Sea Dirge
* Poem XLVII: A Land Dirge
* Poem XLVIII: Post Mortem
* Poem XLIX: The Triumph of Death
* Poem L: Madrigal
* Poem LI: Cupid and Campaspe
* Poem LII
* Poem LIII: Prothalamion
* Poem LIV: The Happy Heart
* Poem LV
* Poem LVI: Soul and Body
* Poem LVII: Life
* Poem LVIII: The Lessons of Nature
* Poem LIX
* Poem LX: The World's Way
* Poem LXI: Saint John Baptist
# The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 25

xxv
LOVE’S OMNIPRESENCE
# The Golden Threshold/Songs for Music/To my Fairy Fancies

TO MY FAIRY FANCIES
Nay, no longer I may hold you, In my spirit's soft caresses, Nor like lotus-leaves enfold you In the tangles of my tresses. Fairy fancies, fly away! To the white cloud-wildernesses,
Fly away!
Nay, no longer ye may linger With your laughter-lighted faces, Now I am a thought-worn singer In life's high and lonely places. Fairy fancies, fly away, To bright wind-inwoven spaces,
Fly away!
# The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics

THE
GOLDEN TREASURY
OF THE BEST SONGS AND LYRICAL POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE
SELECTED AND ARRANGED WITH NOTES BY FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE, OXFORD
Cambridge MACMILLAN AND CO. AND 23 HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN London 1861
Contents
| | page |
| Dedication | |
| Preface | |
| Book I | 1 |
| Book II | 41 |
| Book III | 107 |
| Book IV | 160 |
| Notes | 308 |
| Index of Writers | 324 |
| Index of first Lines | 327 |
Εἰς τον λειμῶνα καθίσας, ἔδρεπεν ἕτερον ἐφ᾽ ἑτέρῳ αἰρόμενος ἄγρευμ᾽ ἀνθέων ἁδομένᾳ ψυχᾷ——
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 Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 2

ii
SUMMONS TO LOVE
# The Golden Threshold/Songs for Music/Song of a Dream

SONG OF A DREAM
Once in the dream of a night I stood Lone in the light of a magical wood, Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang; And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang, And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed, And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Lone in the light of that magical grove, I felt the stars of the spirits of Love Gather and gleam round my delicate youth, And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth; To quench my longing I bent me low By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
# The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 20

xx
LOVE’S PERJURIES
# The Glamorgan Gazette/18 April 1902/A Bridgend Artist

Article from The Glamorgan Gazette, 18 April 1902
A Bridgend Artist.
Mr. G. Howell-Baker, Coychurch-road, Bridgend, is a black and white artist of great ability and promise, who has a considerable reputation in artistic circles in London. He has recently issued a book of his drawings, entitled "Penholm," which is published by R. Brimley Johnson, London, and which has been received with a great deal of favourable comment from the art critics. "The Bookman" gave one of the "Penholm" pictures—"St. George and the Dragon"—the place of honour in the Christmas supplement, and moreover bestowed upon the book the following generous praise:—"Mr. Howell-Baker is a discovery, an artist of real distinction. His work is strong and striking, as strong in conception as it is admirable in technique. 'Penholm' is certainly one of the most original and pleasing and sumptuous art productions of the year." Mr. Howell-Baker's work is not of the ordinary kind, that of producing in exact imitation a figure or a landscape. His drawings are what may be termed allegorical; he expresses a bold conception, a beautiful idea full of poetry, or a great principle, in pencilled lines. His work is, in fact, thought and imagination in black and white. The "Week's Survey," referring to "Penholm" says: "These black and white drawings indicate some of the dreams which come to a student of earlier masters who has a facile pen. Psychologically, they are a veritable melange—a medly of the realistic, the poetic, and the apocalyptic; but all the fancies are verging on the weird."
Recently one of our representatives had the pleasure of a long chat with Mr. Howell-Baker at his studio, and was shown his excellent collection of drawings. Mr. Howell-Baker has taken up his residence in Bridgend for the time being in order to have quietness to do the delicate work of illustrating poetry, which he has taken in hand for some of the big London publishers. In the beautiful country surrounding Bridgend, in the sweet Vale of Glamorgan, the "Garden of Wales," he often finds inspiration for the illustration of a pastoral verse. Mr. Howell-Baker has travelled practically the length and breadth of Great Britain, and having lived in London the Bohemian life of an artist, he has come in contact with some of the leading painters and black and white artists of the day, and has many interesting reminiscences.
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 Glamorgan Gazette/24 August 1894/Summer Is—

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab".
Summer Is—
Light and hearty, gay and joyous Always singing through the day, Soft and pretty, smiling ever, Whilst the summer floats away.
Wild and gentle are thy zephyrs, Breath of what's thy blossomed lair, Nursing nature in your jewell'd Heaving bosom of the year.
Flowers blooming, flora's gaudy In her cloak of fairest green, Silver music ripples dancing On the brook with sunny gleam.
Music giving mellow echoes, Wafted from thy matron sphere, Nature's teaching offsprings sweetly Sing the pleasures of the year.
Evening coolness harbour beauty Softly bright in verdant gloom, Heavens radiant starlight kissing What doth lie beyond the tomb.
Every moment has her pleasure, Every creature gives its song; Every gift is but some treasure Left whilst summer floats along.
Bridgend.G. H. Rekab.
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 Glamorgan Gazette/29 June 1894/Hope

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab".
Hope.
O! that my soul could find repose In Northern star and guide, Ambitious cry and fancies throes And in each hope abide.
So that my span 'twould be a youth And taunt infirm old age By spell untaught thus keep aloof, And read her precious page.
But youth is like a snow-white cloud And wish her n'bulous soul And hope a sun her form enshroud To vanish when we're old.
When youth has fled it seems to gleam For all her days are weal, And memory paints them like a dream, When sorrow still is real.
Protect each joy and count a friend, And share thy joys with him, If sorrows thine to friend ne'er lend And make his pleasures thin.
Each golden hope let be thy aim, Yet still like tidal flood Its steady current oft proclaims The hasty stream hath mud.
You cannot spy a fellow's dream, You cannot clutch your own, So therefore build your hopeful theme When Time's in satin gown.
The friend of sorrow is the gloom, Both hide our joys save care, The friend of joy, where sunshine looms
To gild our gifts down her.
True joy is when with not excess We dote on ours below, In lessing years 'twill have success In parting here below.
Hope is a hand that never hides Her guidance to the sky, Hope is the soul that shall abide Until we are on high.
Hope gives the wing again to soar Above this sordid strife, Hope smooths the path the lifetime o'er, To gain eternal life.
Porthcawl.
G. H. Rekab.
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 Glamorgan Gazette/14 September 1894/Twilight

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab".
Twilight.
Ancient offspring of night and day, Partaker of each mingled ray, The hostess to sun's fiery golden might, Or to the moon's soft, silver, melting light; Forerunner of her heavenly guests,
Trienially from eastern couch to west. Now soaring slowly the crescent moon, Cloaks parching nature in transparent gloom; Bathed is her form in sunset's vivid red, Or link'd in that soft hallow'd silver thread, Gift of calmer, gentler, and softer skies, Than blinding gauze of the sun's gaudy guise, Enfolding on the past like nymph in lake, Stirring up emotions as tho' to make A picture of thy hope and sentiments,
Worthy of twilight when twilight tenements.
The cry of hooting owl—speaketh it too? Mock moon's mockery of Sol's dazzling glow!
Or is their song now hushed to sleep, Silently Nature's voices weep, Hearts' symphonies are full of joy and pain, Giving utterance to thy soul's refrain; Thy brooding each and tender pensive rue Finds consolation in the twilight's dew, Like goddess fair her shadows kneel and pray, And vies in sweetest dreams in dual ray, Imploring peace, with river's rippling voice Embracing thee and muse deep throbs rejoice. Now cotter's trembling candle light afar Sheds weak illumination with the star, When fairy lanterns of the glowworms flit, O'er verdant pathways where the dewdrops glit, Stolen with the lovers listless passage, When hearts o'erflow their language doth assuage Befitting ceremony in each say, Softly dwelling on the ear like dewdrops o'er the way.
Time is for hearts to meditate In pureness that we penetrate, But not discern earth's parti-color'd gown, When steep'd day's glories are, in sombre brown Shaded thro' some caving nebulous sprite, Watching the sun's steady, silent flight —His presence whatsoe'er it be Speaks hollow words of mystery— Pond'ring e'er, but ne'er to know her loyalty, These echoes of dame Earth's profundity; When nature is silent and awed at her spell, Man reciprocates with their days' last knell To gentle blend and silent fall To dreamlike silence over all, To beams of light urn'd in the fairest gloom, Are twilight's soothing obsequies to sun and moon
Bridgend.G. H. Rekab.
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 Glamorgan Gazette/15 June 1894/After the Storm

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab"
AFTER THE STORM.
Last night a storm had swept, O'er sea and land, and left Some tokens on the beach; Whilst on the smiling peaceful land, Some broken boughs and drifted sand, And the cottage bright of thatch; Whilst in the meadows lie the flowers, Mingled with blossoms from the bowers— Crushed and strewn! And on the rocks the hearttongue fern Hangs low her head, and to discern Her many broken stems; The lark in sky gives melody To sooth the grief, and for to see Those remnants of her joy. The sky is dark save where Some fleecy cloud is there To show a contrast, And the distant hills are crowned, For on their summits frown
The lowing cloud, To hide her head of rocky chieff, And in the evening then to lift And disappear. To paint her to the waters low, From setting sun in golden glow, To ask forgiveness. The fern is sparkling with the dew, And nods her head to storm adieu, And smiles with moistened eye. ****** The flowers bloom and lift their heads, In wood and meadows mossy bed, To taunt defiance. Birds give song to join life's tale, In plain or wood with nightingale— 'Tiru tiru troo' to you, All nature smiles the time beguile, All round that are till on the dial No shadows seen; But still a silence then is born, For bat and owl are now forlorn, And nature sleeps. Sleeps from the stormy winds, Sleeps when the sunset finds, Sleep with you. Those flowers in dew all earth's from view, The silence says adieu to you, One knows 'tis true, That the storm has past what storm can last To bind all nature in her throes has past, To hush their song.
Bridgend.G. H. Rekab.
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 Glamorgan Gazette/22 June 1894/The Fox

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab".
The Fox.
O! Reynard, how I watch'd thy pace, As you went o'er the dale O! how I watch'd at rear the chase With hound and horse at trail.
Did surely gain and step by step When open country lay, But how thy cunning then had leapt A mile ahead that day.
And when the even came at last, Its cloak the hunt had stayed, And homeward when the hunters past,
For thy escape I prayed.
And when they told me you had won, What was I then to do, To give it to the sinking sun, Or else the speed to you.
To win such race I know full well You oft have been the prey, Is it the slip you play so well That empty sends this day.
But still, thou didst some sport provide, And gave a merry pace, And also game at seek and hide, As well as a good chase.
And what else did thy chase portend, An axiom now well known, It's not thy speed that to thee sends, But cunning to thy home.
G. H. Rekab.
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 Glamorgan Gazette

* related portals: Newspapers.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
Content exists for this periodical, though at this stage it is not specifically organised beyond a basic hierarchy.
The pages listed below are an automatically generated listing.
Special:PrefixIndex/The Glamorgan Gazette/
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 Glamorgan Gazette/11 May 1894/Ode to Spring

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab"
Ode to Spring.
Oh! Spring thou art constant and ever true, For ever ready when thou art due; Oh! Spring how can I show to thee The homage of thy devotee. I hear thy voice for 'tis the cuckoo's notes, And thy breath the flowry fragrance Of many a gentle blossom that floats
In your gorgeous presence; Oh! sweetest month of all the twelve I hail thee Venus, you've come at last And writer's vow: but of the past You're driven these tokens far away Like a ship before the blast. The birds their brightest plumage don To give thee welcome and a greet, Whilst feathery songsters sing their best A tuneful lay; and for to meet Thy pretty daughter the month of May— What sparkling gem of rarity Or pearls and stones of purity Can match thy gems; the flowers that grow Upon the meadows that plainly show The way that thou hast passed. The fairest gems are thine fair spring, And nothing could I to thee bring To match an empire's gifts like thine; In the humblest homage at thy shrine 'Twould surely be a mockery. The swallows come, the lambs they play, And the butterfly flits in thy sunny ray, Oh, goddess fair! is not thy presence But a heavenly music and a flowery essence? Oh, spring, it would be death to me To part with the flower or the bee! Oh! were I a flower my pedals I'd display To welcome you, thou mouth of May; Or if a bird I'd sing that lay To match the brightest day in May, And at sinking sun I'd end my theme, And leave to the splashing stream That blends its ripples a springtime tale With the sweetest song of the nightingale. Could I but a tribute of goodness bring To thee thou heir and joy of spring, My song would be but a distant echo, My handywork be but a shadow, Oh thy inheritance! For the beauty of the rippling stream Is seen to be thy reflection, And the beauty of the bright sunbean Is to shine in thy direction; And when night comes on the moon doth shine To guide the foot and still show what's thine That grow along the wayside way, For partly they make the month of May. Accept this poor and shallow rhyme fair spring, Tis all, tis all that I can bring.
G. H. Rekab
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 Glamorgan Gazette/28 September 1894/In Sunset's Hour

Poem by G. Howell-Baker, under the pseudonym "G.H. Rekab".
In Sunset's Hour.
When failing light bespeak the night And her early sway, When silver moon amid the gloom Blends with each golden ray; 'Tis when the softest amber clouds Shun a silver gleam, 'Tis when they wear a ruddier robe Caught from a passing beam.
'Tis when with dew the flowers weep To part with rays so bright, 'Tis when the drooping fern in sleep Bows to a silver light; 'Tis when the daisies' closed eye Now rests a sleeping flower, 'Tis when the twilight hears the sigh In sunset's golden hour.
'Tis when the song of feathered throng Is hushed in silent bower, And evening chimes are borne along, Far from the turret tower; 'Tis when the paler blue adorns The form of distant hills, 'Tis when the hush of silence falls Save for the murmuring rills.
'Tis when the longer shadows show That Sol has run his race, 'Tis when the heaving waters take A brighter golden grace; 'Tis when my soul oft follows where He holds his summer sway; 'Tis then the thought oft proves the dream, And I live that summer day.
Bridgend.G. H. Rekab.
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