OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Five Nations/The Destroyers

THE DESTROYERS
The strength of twice three thousand horse That seek the single goal; The line that holds the rending course, The hate that swings the whole: The stripped hulls, slinking through the gloom, At gaze and gone again— The Brides of Death that wait the groom— The Choosers of the Slain!
Offshore where sea and skyline blend In rain, the daylight dies; The sullen, shouldering swells attend Night and our sacrifice. Adown the stricken capes no flare— No mark on spit or bar,— Girdled and desperate we dare The blindfold game of war.
​Nearer the up-flung beams that spell The council of our foes; Clearer the barking guns that tell Their scattered flank to close. Sheer to the trap they crowd their way From ports for this unbarred. Quiet, and count our laden prey The convoy and her guard!
On shoal with scarce a foot below, Where rock and islet throng, Hidden and hushed we watch them throw Their anxious lights along. Not here, not here your danger lies— (Stare hard, O hooded eyne!) Save where the dazed rock-pigeons rise The lit cliffs give no sign.
Therefore—to break the rest ye seek, The Narrow Seas to clear— Hark to the syren's whimpering shriek— The driven death is here! ​Look to your van a league away,— What midnight terror stays The bulk that checks against the spray Her crackling tops ablaze?
Hit, and hard hit! The blow went home, The muffled, knocking stroke— The steam that overruns the foam— The foam that thins to smoke— The smoke that clokes the deep aboil— The deep that chokes her throes Till, streaked with ash and sleeked with oil, The lukewarm whirlpools close!
A shadow down the sickened wave Long since her slayer fled: But hear their chattering quick-fires rave Astern, abeam, ahead! Panic that shells the drifting spar— Loud waste with none to check— Mad fear that rakes a scornful star Or sweeps a consort's deck!
​Now, while their silly smoke hangs thick, Now ere their wits they find, Lay in and lance them to the quick— Our gallied whales are blind! Good luck to those that see the end, Good-bye to those that drown— For each his chance as chance shall send— And God for all! Shut down!
The strength of twice three thousand horse That serve the one command; The hand that heaves the headlong force, The hate that backs the hand: The doom-bolt in the darkness freed, The mine that splits the main; The white-hot wake, the 'wildering speed— The Choosers of the Slain!
# The Five Nations/The Bell Buoy

THE BELL BUOY
They christened my brother of old— And a saintly name he bears— They gave him his place to hold At the head of the belfry-stairs, Where the minster-towers stand And the breeding kestrels cry. Would I change with my brother a league inland? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
In the flush of the hot June prime, O'er smooth flood-tides afire, I hear him hurry the chime To the bidding of checked Desire; Till the sweated ringers tire And the wild bob-majors die. Could I wait for my turn in the godly choir? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
​When the smoking scud is blown, When the greasy wind-rack lowers, Apart and at peace and alone, He counts the changeless hours. He wars with darkling Powers (I war with a darkling sea); Would he stoop to my work in the gusty mirk? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not he!
There was never a priest to pray, There was never a hand to toll, When they made me guard of the bay, And moored me over the shoal. I rock, I reel, and I roll— My four great hammers ply— Could I speak or be still at the Church's will? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
The landward marks have failed, The fog-bank glides unguessed, The seaward lights are veiled, The spent deep feigns her rest: But my ear is laid to her breast, ​I lift to the swell—I cry! Could I wait in sloth on the Church's oath? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
At the careless end of night I thrill to the nearing screw, I turn in the nearing light And I call to the drowsy crew; And the mud boils foul and blue As the blind bow backs away. Will they give me their thanks if they clear the banks? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not they!
The beach-pools cake and skim, The bursting spray-heads freeze, I gather on crown and rim The grey, grained ice of the seas, Where, sheathed from bitt to trees, The plunging colliers lie. Would I barter my place for the Church's grace? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
​Through the blur of the whirling snow, Or the black of the inky sleet, The lanterns gather and grow, And I look for the homeward fleet. Rattle of block and sheet— "Ready about—stand by!" Shall I ask them a fee ere they fetch the quay? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
I dip and I surge and I swing In the rip of the racing tide, By the gates of doom I sing, On the horns of death I ride. A ship-length overside, Between the course and the sand, Fretted and bound I bide Peril whereof I cry. Would I change with my brother a league inland? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
# The Five Nations/The Dykes

THE DYKES
We have no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar— All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more; All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny— There is no proof in the bread we eat or rest in the toil we ply.
Look you, our foreshore stretches far through sea-gate, dyke, and groin— Made land all, that our fathers made, where the flats and the fairway join. They forced the sea a sea-league back. They died, and their work stood fast. We were born to peace in the lee of the dykes, but the time of our peace is past.
​Far off, the full tide clambers and slips, mouthing and testing all, Nipping the flanks of the water-gates, baying along the wall; Turning the shingle, returning the shingle, changing the set of the sand ... We are too far from the beach, men say, to know how the outworks stand.
So we come down, uneasy, to look, uneasily pacing the beach. These are the dykes our fathers made: we have never known a breach. Time and again has the gale blown by and we were not afraid; Now we come only to look at the dykes—at the dykes our fathers made.
O'er the marsh where the homesteads cower apart, the harried sunlight flies. Shifts and considers, wanes and recovers, scatters and sickens and dies— ​An evil ember bedded in ash—a spark blown west by the wind ... We are surrendered to night and the sea—the gale and the tide behind!
At the bridge of the lower saltings the cattle gather and blare, Roused by the feet of running men, dazed by the lantern glare. Unbar and let them away for their lives—the levels drown as they stand, Where the flood-wash forces the sluices aback and the ditches deliver inland.
Ninefold deep to the top of the dykes the galloping breakers stride, And their overcarried spray is a sea—a sea on the landward side. Coming, like stallions they paw with their hooves, going they snatch with their teeth, Till the bents and the furze and the sand are dragged out, and the old-time wattles beneath!
​Bid men gather fuel for fire, the tar and the oil and the tow— Flame we shall need, not smoke, in the dark if the riddled seabanks go. Bid the ringers watch in the tower (who knows what the dawn shall prove?) Each with his rope between his feet and the trembling bells above.
Now we can only wait till the day, wait and apportion our shame! These are the dykes our fathers left, but we would not look to the same. Time and again were we warned of the dykes, time and again we delayed: Now, it may fall, we have slain our sons as our fathers we have betrayed.
Walking along the wreck of the dykes, watching the work of the seas, These were the dykes our fathers made to our great profit and ease; ​But the peace is gone and the profit is gone, and the old sure day withdrawn ... That our own houses show as strange when we come back in the dawn!
# The Five Nations/The Broken Men

THE BROKEN MEN
For things we never mention, For Art misunderstood— For excellent intention That did not turn to good; From ancient tales' renewing, From clouds we would not clear— Beyond the Law's pursuing We fled, and settled here.
We took no tearful leaving, We bade no long good-byes; Men talked of crime and thieving, Men wrote of fraud and lies. To save our injured feelings 'Twas time and time to go— Behind was dock and Dartmoor, Ahead lay Callao!
​The widow and the orphan That pray for ten per cent., They clapped their trailers on us To spy the road we went. They watched the foreign sailings (They scan the shipping still), And that's your Christian people Returning good for ill!
God bless the thoughful islands Where never warrants come! God bless the just Republics That give a man a home, That ask no foolish questions, But set him on his feet; And save his wife and daughters From the workhouse and the street!
On church and square and market The noonday silence falls; You'll hear the drowsy mutter Of the fountain in our halls. ​Asleep amid the yuccas The city takes her ease— Till twilight brings the land-wind To our clicking jalousies.
Day long the diamond weather, The high, unaltered blue— The smell of goats and incense And the mule-bells tinkling through. Day long the warder ocean That keeps us from our kin, And once a month our levee When the English mail comes in.
You'll find us up and waiting To treat you at the bar; You'll find us less exclusive Than the average English are. We'll meet you with our carriage, Too glad to show you round. But—we do not lunch on steamers, For they are English ground.
​We sail o' nights to England And join our smiling Boards; Our wives go in with Viscounts And our daughters dance with Lords. But behind our princely doings, And behind each coup we make, "We feel there's Something Waiting, And—we meet It when we wake.
Ah God! One sniff of England— To greet our flesh and blood— To hear the hansoms slurring Once more through London mud! Our towns of wasted honour— Our streets of lost delight! How stands the old Lord Warden? Are Dover's cliffs still white?
# The Five Nations/The Burial

THE BURIAL
C J. Rhodes, buried in the Matoppos, April 10, 1902
When that great Kings return to clay, Or Emperors in their pride, Grief of a day shall fill a day, Because its creature died. But we—we reckon not with those Whom the mere Fates ordain, This Power that wrought on us and goes Back to the Power again.
Dreamer devout, by vision led Beyond our guess or reach, The travail of his spirit bred Cities in place of speech. ​So huge the all-mastering thought that drove— So brief the term allowed— Nations, not words, he linked to prove His faith before the crowd.
It is his will that he look forth Across the world he won— The granite of the ancient North— Great spaces washed with sun. There shall he patient make his seat (As when the Death he dared), And there await a people's feet In the paths that he prepared.
There, till the vision he forsaw Splendid and whole arise, And unimagined Empires draw To council 'neath his skies, The immense and brooding Spirit still Shall quicken and control. Living he was the land, and dead, His soul shall be her soul!
# The Five Nations/The Instructor

THE INSTRUCTOR
(CORPORALS)
At times when under cover I 'ave said, To keep my spirits up an' raise a laugh, 'Earin' 'im pass so busy over-'ead— Old Nickel Neck, 'oo isn't on the Staff— "There's one above is greater than us all."
Before 'im I 'ave seen my Colonel fall, An' watched 'im write my Captain's epitaph, So that a long way off it could be read— He 'as the knack o' makin' men feel small— Old Whistle Tip, 'oo isn't on the Staff.
There is no sense in fleein' (I 'ave fled), Better go on an' do the belly-crawl, An' 'ope 'e'll 'it some other man instead Of you 'e seems to 'unt so speshual— Fitzy van Spitz, 'oo isn't on the Staff.
​An' thus in mem'ry's gratis biograph, Now that the show is over, I recall The peevish voice an' 'oary mushroom 'ead Of 'im we owned was greater than us all, 'Oo give instruction to the quick an' the dead— The Shudderin' Beggar not upon the Staff.
# The European Concert in the Eastern Question/Preface

PREFACE.
The action of the Great Powers in the Eastern Question deserves, I think, to be studied as a whole, and to be studied textually in the documents which are its official record.
But these documents are not generally accessible, nor are they intelligible without some elucidatory comment. They are scattered through voluminous collections, to be found only in a few great libraries; and in order to ascertain whether a given Treaty is still in force, how far its provisions have been carried into effect, or in what relation it stands to earlier or later Conventions, recourse must be had to sources of information other than the Treaty itself.
I have therefore brought together, from various quarters, those European Acts which determine the character of the Eastern Question at the present day, arranging them according to their subject, and supplying them with such explanatory matter as seemed desirable.
The plan of the work will, I hope, be sufficiently apparent. Each chapter, after the first, relates to ​a specific portion of the Ottoman empire, which has been, with the concurrence of the Great Powers, wholly or partially emancipated from its sway, and consists of an Introduction, followed by a series of Texts. The Introduction is a slight sketch, embodying some mention, or even a citation in full, of such relevant diplomatic acts as, though historically interesting, are not now legally operative. The series of Texts is intended to contain the documents which may be regarded as the title-deeds, or Constitutional Charters, of the States, or partially emancipated provinces, in question. These documents are fully annotated, and such portions of them as are no longer in force are distinguished by italic type.
The Appendix contains some public Acts which, though not of European authority, are important for the better understanding of the body of the work.
I have printed, as a rule, from the English Parliamentary Papers; but sometimes from the 'Recueil des principaux traités,' &c. of G. F. de Martens and his continuators, Ch. de Martens, E. Saalfeld, F. Murhard, Ch. Samwer, and J. Hopf. The 'Recueil,' 'Nouveau Recueil,' 'Nouveau Recueil Général,' and 'Nouveau Recueil Général, deuxième Série,' are respectively referred to in the notes by the abbreviations; R., N.R., N.R.G., and N.R.G. 2$^{me}$ Série.
T. E. H.
    Oxford :
30 April, 1885.
# The European Magazine/Volume 1

THE European Magazine, AND London Review: Containing the Literature, History, Politics, Arts Manners & Amusements of the Age.
Simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vitæ. By the Philological Society of London.
VOL. I. for 1782.
L · O · N · D · O · N.
Printed for John Fielding № 23, Pater Noster Row; John Debrett, opposite Burlington House, Piccadilly; and John Sewell, № 32, Cornhill. To be continued Monthly. Price 1 Shilling.
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* January 1782
* February 1782
* March 1782
* April 1782
* May 1782
* June 1782
# The European Magazine/Volume 1/April 1782

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THE
European Magazine
AND
LONDON REVIEW
CONTAINING THE
LITERATURE, HISTORY, POLITICS, ARTS, MANNERS, and AMUSEMENTS of the AGE.
By the PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY of LONDON.
For APRIL, 1782.
Embellished with the following elegant Engravings:
1. A striking Likeness of His Excellency the DUKE of PORTLAND, Lord Lieutenant of the Kingdom of Ireland, engraved by Mr. Powel, from a Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the Possession of the Right Hon. the Earl of Stamford.—2. An accurate Whole Sheet Map of the Kingdom of Ireland.
CONTAINING,
Page
The London Review, with Anecdotes of Authors
LONDON:
Printed for JOHN FIELDING, N° 23, Pater-noster Row; J. DEBRETT, opposite Burlington-House, Piccadilly; J. SEWELL, Cornhill; and sold by all the BOOKSELLERS in EUROPE.
# The Grave of Shelley

* "The Grave of Shelley" in The Writings of Oscar Wilde (1907)
* "The Grave of Shelley" in The Poems of Oscar Wilde (1909)
# The Grave of Keats (Lowell)

Rome, March 20, 1851.
But one rude stone for him whose song  Revived the Grecian's plastic ease, Till men and maidens danced along  In youth perpetual on his frieze!
Where lies that mould of senses fine  Men knew as Keats awhile ago, We cannot trace a single sign  Of all that made his joy below.
There are no trees to talk of him  Who knew their bushes and their swells, Where myriad leaves in forest dim  Build up their cloudy citadels.
No mystic-signaled passion-flowers  Spread their flat discs, while buds more fair Swing like great bells, in frail green towers  To toll away the summer air.
O Mother Earth! thy sides he bound  With far-off Venus' warmer zone, With statelier sons thy landscape crowned,  Whose chiming voices matched thine own!
O Mother Earth, what hast thou brought  This tender frame that loved thee well? Harsh grass and weeds alone are wrought  On his low grave's uneven swell.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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# The Grave of a Poetess

written about the grave of Mary Tighe
* The Grave of a Poetess, in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 20, 1827.
* The Grave of a Poetess, in Records of Woman: with Other Poems (Records of Woman), 1828.
# The Graves of a Household

* The Graves of a Household, in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 14, 1825.
* The Graves of a Household, in Records of Woman: with Other Poems (Miscellaneous Pieces), 1828.
# The Gray Champion

originally published in Twice-Told Tales
* The Gray Champion in Twice-Told Tales (1837)
* The Gray Champion in Twice-Told Tales (1851)
* The Gray Champion in Little Masterpieces edited by Bliss Perry (1897) (transcription project)
# The Grave of Keats

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Grave of Keats."
* 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 Grave of Keats", a poem by Maria White Lowell
* "The Grave of Keats", a poem by Oscar Wilde
# The Grave of Keats (Wilde)

* "The Grave of Keats" in The Writings of Oscar Wilde (1907)
* "The Grave of Keats" in The Poems of Oscar Wilde (1909)
# The Indian Biographical Dictionary (1915)/Appaswami, M.

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​Appaswami, M., Commissioner, District Police and Delegations Judicious, Pondicherry.
# The Indian Biographical Dictionary (1915)/Arbuthnot, Hon’ble Mr. R. F. V.

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​Arbuthnot, Hon'ble Mr. R. F. V.. Nominated Member, Imperial Legislative Council, representing Burma; appointed 14th October 1914. Address: Rangoon, Burma.
# The Indian Biographical Dictionary (1915)/Appendix VI

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APPENDIX VI
Principal Clubs for Ladies in London
| Albemarle | . . . | 37, Dover Street, W. |
| Alexandra | . . . | 12, Grosvenor Street, W. |
| Automobile | . . . | Claridge’s Hotel. |
| Bath | . . . | 16, Berkeley Street, W. |
| Empress | . . . | 35, Dover Street, W. |
| Ladies’ A. and N. | . . . | Burlington Gardens, W. |
| Ladies’ Athenaeum | . . . | 31, Dover Street, W. |
| Ladies’ Empire | . . . | 69, Grosvenor Street, W. |
| Ladies’ Imperial | . . . | 17, Dover Street, W. |
| Ladies’ Park | . . . | 32, Parkside, S.W. |
| Lyceum | . . . | 128, Piccadilly, W. |
| New Century | . . . | Hay Hill, Berkeley Square, W, |
| New Era | . . . | 67, Curzon Street, W. |
| New Victorian | . . . | 30, A. Sackville Street, W. |
| Pioneer | . . . | 5, Grafton Street, Piccadilly. |
| Sesame | . . . | 28 and 29, Dover Street, W. |
| Three Arts | . . . | 19-A. Marylebone Road. |
| United Arts | . . . | 35, Dover Street. |
| University | . . . | 4, George Street, Hanover Square, W. |
| Victoria | . . . | 145, Victoria Street. |
| Writers’ | . . . | 10, Norfolk Street, Strand. |
# The Indian Biographical Dictionary (1915)/Appleyard, Major-Genl. Frederick Ernest

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​Appleyard, Major-Genl. Frederick Ernest, C.B.; born 1829; son of F. N. Appleyard, a Cursitor of the High Court of Chancery; educated at Elizabeth College, Guernsey; entered 80th regiment, 1850; served in the Second Burmese War; present at Martaban, the storming of Rangoon and taking of Prome; exchanged to the 7th R. Fusiliers; in the Crimea; wounded at Alma, 1854, and the Redan, 1855; present at Inkerman, in the trenches at Sebastopol; commanded a Brigade in the Afghan campaign, 1878-80; C.B. 1875 for Military Services; knight of the Legion d’Honneur and Order of the Medjidie. Address: Tarakai, Surbiton. Army and Navy Club.
# The Fornicator

Ye jovial boys, who love the joys, The blissful joys of lovers,
And dare avow wi' dauntless brow,
Whate'er the lass discovers;
I pray draw near, and you shall hear,
And welcome in a frater,
I've lately been in quarantine,
A proven fornicator.
Before the congregation wide I pass'd the muster fairly,
My handsome Betsy by my side,
We gat our ditty rarely.
My downcast eye, by chance did spy What made my mouth to water,
Those limbs so clean, where I between,
Commenced a fornicator.
Wi' ruefu' face, and signs o' grace,
I paid the buttock hire;
The night was dark, and thro' the park,
I couldna but convoy her.
A parting kiss, what could I less ;
My vows began to scatter,
Sweet Betsy fell, fal, lal, de ral,
And I'm a fornicator.
But by the sun and moon I swear,
And I'll fulfill ilk hair o't,
That while I own a single crown,
She's welcome to a share o't.
My roguish boy, his mother's joy,
And darling of his pater,
I for his sake, the name will take,
A hardened fornicator.
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 Forsaken (Queen's Court Manuscript)

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This poem comes from the so called Queen's Court Manuscript, alleged mediaeval work whose real author was most probably Václav Hanka in the early 19th century.
English-language translations of Opuščená include:
* Och wi lesi tmaui lesi, in Cheskian Anthology by John Bowring (1832)
* The Forsaken, in Bohemian Poems, Ancient and Modern by Albert Henry Wratislaw (1849)
* The Forsaken, in The Queen's Court Manuscript with Other Ancient Bohemian Poems by Albert Henry Wratislaw (1852)
# The Forsaken Man

First published in Paradyse of Dainty Devices (1576). Published by Grosart in Miscellanies of the Fuller Worthies' Library, Vol. IV (1872).
A crown of bays shall that man wear,  That triumphs over me;  For black and tawny will I wear,  Which mourning colours be.  The more I follow’d one,  The more she fled away,  As Daphne did full long agone  Apollo’s wishful prey.  The more my plaints I do resound  The less she pities me;  The more I sought the less I found,  Yet mine she meant to be.  Melpomene alas, with doleful tunes help than; [then]  And sing Bis, woe worth on me forsaken man.   Then Daphne’s bays shall that man wear,  That triumphs over me;  For black and tawny will I wear,  Which mourning colours be.  Drown me with trickling tears,  You wailful wights of woe;  Come help these hands to rend my hairs,  My rueful hap to show.   On whom the scorching flame  Of love doth feed you see;  Ah a lalalantida, my dear dame  Hath thus tormented me.  Wherefore you muses nine, with doleful tunes help than,  And sint, Bis, woe worth on me forsaken man.   Then Daphne’s bays shall that man wear,  That triumphs over me;  For black and tawny will I wear,  Which mourning co]ours be;  An anchor’s life to icad,  With nails to scratch my grave,  Where earthly worms on me shall feed,  Is all the ioy I crave;  And hide myself from shame,  Since that mine eyes do see,  Ah a lalalantida, my dear dame  Hath thus tormented me.  And all that present be, with doleful tunes help than,  And sing Bis wot worth, on me forsaken man.
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