OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 58

​Chapter lvij: Of The Monk Who Fell
AND by the side of these blessed men I saw a man who also had made himself remote from the world, and he dwelt in holes in the rocks even as did they; now this man was mocked at by the devil of vainglory, and by the visions which he saw, and he was deluded (or snared) by things which appeared to approach him and then wandered away. And he was lacking in mind, even as it is written, “Being exalted in his dreams he pastureth spirits and pursueth after a shadow”; now he was chaste in his body, perhaps owing to the length [of his years], or perhaps through vainglory, yet through the matters of spiritual excellence he destroyed his understanding, and he was corrupted by empty and polluted glory, and because of this he departed from the straight road of the ascetic life.
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 63

​Chapter LXIII: Of The Blessed Man Sisinnius
NOW this holy man Elpidius had a certain disciple whose name was Sisinnius, who was a slave by birth, though a free man in the faith; by race he was a Cappadocian, and it is necessary that we should make known the fact that he was so, for the sake of the glorifying of Christ Who hath made us worthy to be accounted His kinsmen, and to be exalted to that true family, which is full of happiness, of the kingdom of heaven. Now therefore when this man Sisinnius had passed some time with Elpidius, and had struggled to lead the ascetic life strenuously for a period of seven years, he at length shut himself in a grave for three years, and he endured such privations therein that neither by day nor by night did he sit or lie down, and he never went out here from. And this man was held to be worthy of possessing the gift of authority over devils, and now that he hath come into his own country he hath been held to be worthy of the gift of the priesthood; and he hath made congregations of men and of women, which, according to a sure testimony, lead lives of purity and chastity. He hath trampled upon the lust which is in men, and he hath bridled the voluptuousness of the women, so that there hath been fulfilled that which is written, “In Christ Jesus there is neither male nor female” (Galatians 3:28). And he was also a great lover of strangers and of voluntary poverty, which was a reproach unto those who were rich and miserly.
# The Song of the Strange Ascetic

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 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
If I had been a heathen, I'd have praised the purple vine, My slaves should dig the vineyards, And I would drink the wine; But Higgins is a heathen, And his slaves grow lean and grey, That he may drink some tepid milk Exactly twice a day.
If I had been a heathen, I'd have crowned Neaera's curls, And filled my life with love affairs, My house with dancing girls; But Higgins is a heathen, And to lecture rooms is forced, Where his aunts, who are not married, Demand to be divorced.
If I had been a heathen, I'd have sent my armies forth, And dragged behind my chariots The Chieftains of the North; But Higgins is a heathen, And he drives the dreary quill, To lend the poor that funny cash That makes them poorer still.
If I had been a heathen, I'd have piled my pyre on high, And in a great red whirlwind Gone roaring to the sky; But Higgins is a heathen, And a richer man than I: And they put him in an oven, Just as if he were a pie.
Now who that runs can read it, The riddle that I write, Of why this poor old sinner Should sin without delight; But I, I cannot read it (Although I run and run), Of them that do not have the faith, And will not have the fun.
# The Songs of England/Volume 1/Rule, Britannia!

Rule, Britannia! :
* Dr. Arne. 1740.
1.
When Britain first, at Heav'n's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain: "Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves; "Britons never will be slaves."
2.
The nations not so blest as thee, Must in their turn to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all. Rule, Britannia! &c.
3.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast, that tears the skies, Serves but to root thy native oak. Rule, Britannia! &c.
4.
Thee, haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; All their attempts to bend thee down, Will but arouse thy gen'rous flame, To work their woe, and thy renown. Rule, Britannia! &c.
5.
To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; All thine, shall be the subject main, And every shore it circles, thine. Rule, Britannia! &c.
5.
The muses, still with freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair; Blest Isle! with matchless beauty crown'd, And manly hearts to guard the fair. Rule, Britannia! &c.
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 Songs of Summer

* "The Songs of Summer" in The Ascent of Man (1889)
* "The Songs of Summer" in Poetical works of Mathilde Blind (1900)
# The Song of the Sufferer

Written when ill with fever and sore throat.
His drink it is Saline Pyretic, He longs, but he shall not eat, His soul is convulsed with emetic, His stomach is empty of meat.
His bowels are stirred by blind motions, His form in the flannel is bound, He has gargles, and powders, and potions, And walks as not feeling the ground.
For the doctor has harrowed his being, And of medicine wondrous the might is; He suffers in agony, seeing He is prey to acute tonsilitis.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published in 1881, before the cutoff of January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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 Songs of England

* Volume 1 (transcription project)
* Volume 2 (transcription project)
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 Relic

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Relic."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* The Relic, a poem by John Donne.
* The Relic, a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier.
# The Relic (Donne)

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
WHEN my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain, —For graves have learn'd that woman-head, To be to more than one a bed— And he that digs it, spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, Will he not let us alone, And think that there a loving couple lies, Who thought that this device might be some way To make their souls at the last busy day Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?
If this fall in a time, or land, Where mass-devotion doth command, Then he that digs us up will bring Us to the bishop or the king, To make us relics; then Thou shalt be a Mary Magdalen, and I A something else thereby; All women shall adore us, and some men. And, since at such time miracles are sought, I would have that age by this paper taught What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.
First we loved well and faithfully, Yet knew not what we loved, nor why; Difference of sex we never knew, No more than guardian angels do; Coming and going we Perchance might kiss, but not between those meals; Our hands ne'er touch'd the seals, Which nature, injured by late law, sets free. These miracles we did; but now alas! All measure, and all language, I should pass, Should I tell what a miracle she was.
# The Red Insurrection in Finland in 1918/Part 2

THE INSURRECTION.
* 1. Red and White: General Characteristics
* 2. The Outbreak of the Insurrection
* 3. The Red Army
* 4. The Leadership of the Red
* 5. The Red and their Opponents
* 6. The Fall of the Red Power
* 7. Postscript
# The Profiteers

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
As serialized in the Cosmopolitan, Dec 1920, pp. 14–18; Jan 1921, pp. 38–44; and Feb 1921, pp. 42–48, etc.
THE PROFITEERS
A new novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim, author of “The Great Impersonation,” “The Inevitable Millionaires,” etc.
Illustrated by James Montgomery Flagg
* Part 1 December 1920
* Part 2 January 1921
* Part 3 February 1921
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY (COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE) COPYRIGHTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
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 1946, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 77 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 Thistle of Scotland

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Thistle of Scotland."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "The Thistle of Scotland", song by a "Mr Sutherland" (1819).
* "The Thistle of Scotland", poem by James David Edgar (1893).
# The Story of Aunt Becky's Army-Life

THE STORY
OF
AUNT BECKY'S ARMY-LIFE.
BY
S. A. PALMER.
NEW YORK:
JOHN F. TROW & CO., 50 GREENE STREET.
1867.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
JOHN F. TROW,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
Hearth-stone.—"She will soon play out."—Finding temporary Board and Lodging.—Making a new Friend.—First Experience in a Southern Boarding-house.—Washing "Pet's" Face.—The Midnight Howl.—Taking new Quarters.—Kindness of the Men.—Signs of Autumn.—Our Surgeons. — A slight Attack.—Hospital Fare. — Demise of the brindle Pup.— Good Gifts.—The
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
— Our noble Commanders. — Visiting Camp. —May Blossoms. —
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
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 Story of Abraham Lincoln/The First Years in Illinois

From the book, Four Great Americans by author James Baldwin.
Early in the spring of 1830, Thomas Lincoln sold his farm in Indiana, and the whole family moved to Illinois. The household goods were put in a wagon drawn by four yoke of oxen. The kind step-mother and her daughters rode also in the wagon.
Abraham Lincoln, with a long whip in his hand, trudged through the mud by the side of the road and guided the oxen. Who that saw him thus going into Illinois would have dreamed that he would in time become that state's greatest citizen?
The journey was a long and hard one; but in two weeks they reached Decatur, where they had decided to make their new home.
Abraham Lincoln was now over twenty-one years old. He was his own man. But he stayed with his father that spring. He helped him fence his land; he helped him plant his corn.
But his father had no money to give him. The young man's clothing was all worn out, and he had nothing with which to buy any more. What should he do?
Three miles from his father's cabin there lived a thrifty woman, whose name was Nancy Miller. Mrs. Miller owned a flock of sheep, and in her house there were a spinning-wheel and a loom that were always busy. And so you must know that she wove a great deal of jeans and home-made cloth.
Abraham Lincoln bargained with this woman to make him a pair of trousers. He agreed that for each yard of cloth required, he would split for her four hundred rails.
He had to split fourteen hundred rails in all; but he worked so fast that he had finished them before the trousers were ready.
The next April saw young Lincoln piloting another flatboat down the Mississippi to New Orleans. His companion this time was his mother's relative, John Hanks. This time he stayed longer in New Orleans, and he saw some things which he had barely noticed on his first trip.
He saw gangs of slaves being driven through the streets. He visited the slave-market, and saw women and girls sold to the highest bidder like so many cattle.
The young man, who would not be unkind to any living being, was shocked by these sights. "His heart bled; he was mad, thoughtful, sad, and depressed."
He said to John Hanks, "If I ever get a chance to hit that institution, I'll hit it hard, John."
He came back from New Orleans in July. Mr. Offut, the owner of the flatboat which he had taken down, then employed him to act as clerk in a country store which he had at New Salem.
New Salem was a little town not far from Springfield.
Young Lincoln was a good salesman, and all the customers liked him. Mr. Offut declared that the young man knew more than anyone else in the United States, and that he could outrun and outwrestle any man in the county.
But in the spring of the next year Mr. Offut failed. The store was closed, and Abraham Lincoln was out of employment again.
# The Story of Abraham Lincoln/The New Mother

From the book, Four Great Americans by author James Baldwin.
The log house, which Abraham Lincoln called his home, was now more lonely and cheerless than before. The sunlight of his mother's presence had gone out of it forever.
His sister Sarah, twelve years old, was the housekeeper and cook. His father had not yet found time to lay a floor in the house, or to hang a door. There were great crevices between the logs, through which the wind and the rain drifted on every stormy day. There was not much comfort in such a house.
But the lad was never idle. In the long winter days, when there was no work to be done, he spent the time in reading or in trying to improve his writing.
There were very few books in the cabins of that backwoods settlement. But if Abraham Lincoln heard of one, he could not rest till he had borrowed it and read it.
Another summer passed, and then another winter. Then, one day, Mr. Lincoln went on a visit to Kentucky, leaving his two children and their cousin, Dennis Hanks, at home to care for the house and the farm.
I do not know how long he stayed away, but it could not have been many weeks. One evening, the children were surprised to see a four-horse wagon draw up before the door.
Their father was in the wagon; and by his side was a kind-faced woman; and, sitting on the straw at the bottom of the wagon-bed, there were three well-dressed children—two girls and a boy.
And there were some grand things in the wagon, too. There were six split-bottomed chairs, a bureau with drawers, a wooden chest, and a feather bed. All these things were very wonderful to the lad and lassie who had never known the use of such luxuries.
"Abraham and Sarah," said Mr. Lincoln, as he leaped from the wagon, "I have brought you a new mother and a new brother and two new sisters."
The new mother greeted them very kindly, and, no doubt, looked with gentle pity upon them. They were barefooted; their scant clothing was little more than rags and tatters; they did not look much like her own happy children, whom she had cared for so well.
And now it was not long until a great change was made in the Lincoln home. A floor was laid, a door was hung, a window was made, the crevices between the logs were daubed with clay.
The house was furnished in fine style, with the chairs and the bureau and the feather bed. The kind, new mother brought sunshine and hope into the place that had once been so cheerless.
With the young lad, Dennis Hanks, there were now six children in the family. But all were treated with the same kindness; all had the same motherly care. And so, in the midst of much hard work, there were many pleasant days for them all.
# The Songs that Quinte Sang/In Memoriam, G. P. Y.

In Memoriam, G. P. Y.
Just three-score years and ten he spent with us, The span of Life allotted unto man, And then before old age had dimmed his eye Or clouded his great intellect and brain, God’s voice spake out to him and called him hence. And he obeyed the call, nor shrank when Death, That grim and ghastly King of Terrors, laid His hand upon his noble heart, and stilled Its kindly throbs. No coward sign he made, But undismayed and fearless, he went forth Into the great, mysterious unknown, Whose entrance is the Grave, whose password—Death.
And now to him all secrets are revealed; Those mysteries, unfathomed and profound, Those problems which we ever try to solve With all the might of our poor human ken— Problems which baffled even his great brain— Are all unfolded now unto his sight Like printed pages of an open book. Ah! If he only could come back again For one brief space of time, and speak to us Of those great mysteries, profound and vast, Which are no longer mysteries to him. But that can never be, such thoughts are vain, For our earth-blinded eyes must e’en as his
Be touched and opened by the hand of Death, Ere we can hope to read the truths sublime Inscribed within the pages of that book.
And we who know how quenchless was his thirst For Truth and Knowledge, though we mourn our loss, Rejoice to picture him in that far land, Drinking deep draughts of knowledge from the springs Of glorious, eternal, living Truth. And knowing this we would not wish thee back, Teacher and guide, philosopher and sage, Who lived as God ordained mankind should live, Who died as God ordained mankind should die, Whose life was blameless and whose end was peace.
# The Songs that Quinte Sang/Her Answer

Her Answer.
They said to her, “Why are your songs so sad? Such hidden pain and pathos in them lie, Such mournful thoughts in sombre language clad, They bring the tears unbidden to the eye. If you would only sing in strains more glad The world would laugh, and so forget to sigh.
“Life has its pain, but has its pleasures too! A cheery smile is better than a tear; Some hearts are false, we know, but some are true, The world is sad, why make it still more drear? We love Life’s roses better than Life’s rue, Better than dirge of woe the song of cheer.”
And as they talked with her in cheerful strain A shadow stole o’er her averted face, But when she turned to meet their gaze again Her smiling lips showed naught of sorrow’s trace, Though in her eyes still lurked a shade of pain Which naught might banish from its dwelling place.
The lark sings gaily in the morning sun Uprising from its nest amid the wheat; The nightingale’s sweet notes, when day is done, Float gently from the woodland’s cool retreat In soft and plaintive strains, yet is there one Who hearing both, would deem the lark’s mark sweet?
“A smile is better than a tear you say, Believe me, friends, it is not always so, As I can prove. ’Twas but the other day I stood with one whose heart was crushed with woe, Beside the coffin where her treasure lay, So great, so deep her grief, tears would not flow.
“Upon my breast she laid her aching head, I tried to comfort her, but words were vain, But as my tears fell fast above the dead Her tears burst forth in showers like the rain; Then when her grief was spent, she smiled and said: ‘Dear friend, those tears have eased my heart’s dull pain.’”
# The Songs that Quinte Sang/Life and Death

Life and Death.
On a bed of pain the sick girl lay With closed, white-lidded eyes, As the sunset gilded the azure bay And crimsoned the western skies, Whilst over her head in bitter strife Strove the Angel of Death and the Angel of Life.
In and out of the chamber crept The watchers, with noiseless tread, They feared to disturb the one who slept, For they knew how frail the thread That held her light and wavering breath And balanced her soul between life and death.
Then a gentle voice the silence broke, And they gathered around the bed; In low, sweet accents the sick girl spoke. Strange were the words she said: “Hearken to me and cease the strife, O Angel of Death and Angel of Life.
“I am weary listening to the strife And to end it I am fain, So cease to struggle, O Death and Life And I’ll choose between ye twain.” Then turning to Life she wearily sighed, “Tell me, what gifts can’st thou give thy bride?”
And swift from his lips the answer came: “O maiden! I’ll give thee health And youth and hope and deathless fame, And treasures of golden wealth.” Then his voice grew soft as the note of a dove, “But best of all, I will give thee love.”
But she wearily turned her head aside As he spake Love’s fatal name. “Thou dost mock my sorrow, Life!” she cried, “For what to me is fame? And health and wealth prove worthless too, Since hope is dead and my love untrue.
“O Angel! I spurn thy gifts and thee.” And she turned to his rival, Death, “And thou! what hast thou in store for me?” She whispered with fleeting breath, A cool, soft kiss on her brow he pressed, And murmured, “Oblivion, peace and rest.”
And the maiden’s face grew strangely calm At the sound of the angel’s voice, And she laid her hand in his pale, cold palm. Oh! wise was the maiden’s choice. And the watchers in silence held their breath As her soul went out to the arms of Death.
# The Songs that Quinte Sang/Messengers to the Dead

Messengers to the Dead.
Friends who even now are weeping ’Round the one you love so well, Know that sound of human sorrow Cannot break Death’s mighty spell. Cease to weep, thy bitter wailing Falls upon a deafened ear, Tears and sobs are unavailing, He is dead, he cannot hear.
From a friend who knew and loved him Since his earliest childhood’s hour, And who shares your bitter heart ache Comes this offering of flowers. Let their beauty light the shadows Death has brought around his bed, Breathing forth their subtle incense, Messengers unto the dead.
Lay them on his pulseless bosom, Clasp them in his pale, cold hand, As they breathe their silent message He will know and understand; For, their breath is far more subtle Than the power of human speech, And can penetrate his senses Where our voices cannot reach.
Tell him, white and fragrant Roses, Of our friendship, strong and true; Of our deep and heartfelt sorrow, Whisper thou, O mournful Rue! But we leave the tenderest message Unto thee, Forget-me-not, Tell him that through all life’s changes He will never be forgot.