OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Prince (Hill Thomson)/Dedication

Dedication: To the Magnificent Lorenzo Di Piero De' Medici
It is customary for such as seek a Prince's favour, to present themselves before him with those things of theirs which they themselves most value, or in which they perceive him chiefly to delight. Accordingly, we often see horses, armour, cloth of gold, precious stones, and the like costly gifts, offered to Princes as worthy of their greatness. Desiring in like manner to approach your Magnificence with some token of my devotion, I have found among my possessions none that I so much prize and esteem as a knowledge of the actions of great men, acquired in the course of a long experience of modern affairs and a continual study of antiquity. Which knowledge most carefully and patiently pondered over and sifted by me, and now reduced into this little book, I send to your Magnificence. And though I deem the work unworthy of your greatness, yet am I bold enough to hope that your courtesy will dispose you to accept it, considering that I can offer you no better gift than the means of mastering in a very brief time, all that in the course of so many years, and at the cost of so many hardships and dangers, I have learned, and know.
This work I have not adorned or amplified with rounded periods, swelling and high-flown language, or any other of those extrinsic attractions and allurements wherewith many authors are wont to set off and grace their writings; since it is my desire that it should either pass wholly unhonoured, or that the truth of its matter and the importance of its subject should alone recommend it.
Nor would I have it thought presumption that a person of very mean and humble station should venture to discourse and lay down rules concerning the government of Princes. For as those who make maps of countries place themselves low down in the plains to study the character of mountains and elevated lands, and place themselves high up on the mountains to get a better view of the plains, so in like manner to understand the People a man should be a Prince, and to have a clear notion of Princes he should belong to the People.
Let your Magnificence, then, accept this little gift in the spirit in which I offer it; wherein, if you diligently read and study it, you will recognize my extreme desire that you should attain to that eminence which Fortune and your own merits promise you. Should you from the height of your greatness some time turn your eyes to these humble regions, you will become aware how undeservedly I have to endure the keen and unremitting malignity of Fortune.
Niccolò Machiavelli
# The Prince (Hill Thomson)/Chapter XXII
## Chapter XXII: Of the Secretaries of Princes

The choice of Ministers is a matter of no small moment to a Prince. Whether they shall be good or no depends on his prudence, so that the readiest conjecture we can form of the character and sagacity of a Prince, is from seeing what sort of men he has about him. When they are at once capable and faithful, we may always account him wise, since he has known to recognize their merit and to retain their fidelity. But if they be otherwise, we must pronounce unfavourably of him, since he has committed a first fault in making this selection.
There was none who knew Messer Antonio of Venafro, as Minister of Pandolfo Petrucci, Lord of Siena, but thought Pandolfo a most prudent ruler in having him for his servant. And since there are three scales of intelligence, one which understands by itself, a second which understands what is shown it by others, and a third which understands neither by itself nor on the showing of others, the first of which is most excellent, the second good, but the third worthless, we must needs admit that if Pandolfo was not in the first of these degrees, he was in the second; for when one has the judgment to discern the good from the bad in what another says or does, though he be devoid of invention, he can recognize the merits and demerits of his servant, and will commend the former while he corrects the latter. The servant cannot hope to deceive such a master, and will continue good.
As to how a Prince is to know his Minister, this unerring rule may be laid down. When you see a Minister thinking more of himself than of you, and in all his actions seeking his own ends, that man can never be a good Minister or one that you can trust. For he who has the charge of the State committed to him, ought not to think of himself, but only of his Prince, and should never bring to the notice of the latter what does not directly concern him. On the other hand, to keep his Minister good, the Prince should be considerate of him, dignifying him, enriching him, binding him to himself by benefits, and sharing with him the honours as well as the burthens of the State, so that the abundant honours and wealth bestowed upon him may divert him from seeking them at other hands; while the great responsibilities wherewith he is charged may lead him to dread change, knowing that he cannot stand alone without his master’s support. When Prince and Minister are upon this footing they can mutually trust one another; but when the contrary is the case, it will always fare ill with one or other of them.
# The Prince (Hill Thomson)/Chapter XXIV
## Chapter XXIV: Why the Princes of Italy Have Lost Their States

The lessons above taught if prudently followed will make a new Prince seem like an old one, and will soon seat him in his place more firmly and securely than if his authority had the sanction of time. For the actions of a new Prince are watched much more closely than those of an hereditary Prince; and when seen to be good are far more effectual than antiquity of blood in gaining men over and attaching them to his cause. For men are more nearly touched by things present than by things past, and when they find themselves well off as they are, enjoy their felicity and seek no further; nay, are ready to do their utmost in defence of the new Prince, provided he be not wanting to himself in other respects. In this way there accrues to him a twofold glory, in having laid the foundations of the new Princedom, and in having strengthened and adorned it with good laws and good arms, with faithful friends and great deeds; as, on the other hand, there is a double disgrace in one who has been born to a Princedom losing it by his own want of wisdom.
And if we contemplate those Lords who in our own times have lost their dominions in Italy, such as the King of Naples, the Duke of Milan, and others, in the first place we shall see, that in respect of arms they have, for reasons already dwelt on, been all alike defective; and next, that some of them have either had the people against them, or if they have had the people with them, have not known how to secure themselves against their nobles. For without such defects as these, States powerful enough to keep an army in the field are never overthrown.
Philip of Macedon, not the father of Alexander the Great, but he who was vanquished by Titus Quintius, had no great State as compared with the strength of the Romans and Greeks who attacked him. Nevertheless, being a Prince of a warlike spirit, and skilful in gaining the good will of the people and in securing the fidelity of the nobles, he maintained himself for many years against his assailants, and in the end, though he lost some towns, succeeded in saving his Kingdom.
Let those Princes of ours, therefore, who, after holding them for a length of years, have lost their dominions, blame not Fortune but their own inertness. For never having reflected in tranquil times that there might come a change (and it is human nature when the sea is calm not to think of storms), when adversity overtook them, they thought not of defence but only of escape, hoping that their people, disgusted with the arrogance of the conqueror, would some day recall them.
This course may be a good one to follow when all others fail, but it were the height of folly, trusting to it, to abandon every other; since none would wish to fall on the chance of some one else being found to lift him up. It may not happen that you are recalled by your people, or if it happen, it gives you no security. It is an ignoble resource, since it does not depend on you for its success; and those modes of defence are alone good, certain and lasting, which depend upon yourself and your own worth.
# The Seven Seas/The Sea-Wife

First published as introductory verses to Steve Brown's Bunyip by John Arthur Barry, 1893.
THE SEA-WIFE
There dwells a wife by the Northern Gate, And a wealthy wife is she; She breeds a breed o' rovin' men And casts them over sea,
And some are drowned in deep water, And some in sight o' shore, And word goes back to the weary wife And ever she sends more.
For since that wife had gate or gear, Or hearth or garth or bield, She willed her sons to the white harvest, And that is a bitter yield.
She wills her sons to the wet ploughing, To ride the horse of tree, And syne her sons come back again Far-spent from out the sea.
​The good wife's sons come home again With little into their hands, But the lore of men that ha' dealt with men In the new and naked lands;
But the faith of men that ha' brothered men By more than easy breath, And the eyes o' men that ha' read wi' men In the open books of death.
Rich are they, rich in wonders seen, But poor in the goods o' men; So what they ha' got by the skin o' their teeth They sell for their teeth again.
For whether they lose to the naked life Or win to their hearts' desire, They tell it all to the weary wife That nods beside the fire.
Her hearth is wide to every wind That makes the white ash spin; And tide and tide and 'tween the tides Her sons go out and in;
​(Out with great mirth that do desire Hazard of trackless ways, In with content to wait their watch And warm before the blaze);
And some return by failing light, And some in waking dream, For she hears the heels of the dripping ghosts That ride the rough roof-beam.
Home, they come home from all the ports, The living and the dead; The good wife's sons come home again For her blessing on their head!
# The Seven Seas/The Merchantmen

First published in McClure's Magazine (July 1893).
THE MERCHANTMEN
King Solomon drew merchantmen, Because of his desire For peacocks, apes, and ivory, From Tarshish unto Tyre: With cedars out of Lebanon Which Hiram rafted down, But we be only sailormen That use in London Town.
Coastwise—cross-seas—round the world and back again— Where the flaw shall head us or the full Trade suits— Plain-sail—storm-sail—lay your board and tack again— And that's the way we'll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots!
We bring no store of ingots, Of spice or precious stones, But that we have we gathered With sweat and aching bones: ​In flame beneath the tropics, In frost upon the floe, And jeopardy of every wind That does between them go.
And some we got by purchase, And some we had by trade, And some we found by courtesy Of pike and carronade, At midnight, 'mid-sea meetings, For charity to keep, And light the rolling homeward-bound That rode a foot too deep.
By sport of bitter weather We're walty, strained, and scarred From the kentledge on the kelson To the slings upon the yard. Six oceans had their will of us To carry all away— Our galley's in the Baltic, And our boom's in Mossel Bay!
​We've floundered off the Texel, Awash with sodden deals, We've slipped from Valparaiso With the Norther at our heels: We've ratched beyond the Crossets That tusk the Southern Pole, And dipped our gunnels under To the dread Agulhas roll.
Beyond all outer charting We sailed where none have sailed, And saw the land-lights burning On islands none have hailed; Our hair stood up for wonder, But, when the night was done, There danced the deep to windward Blue-empty 'neath the sun!
Strange consorts rode beside us And brought us evil luck; The witch-fire climbed our channels, And flared on vane and truck: ​Till, through the red tornado, That lashed us nigh to blind, We saw The Dutchman plunging, Full canvas, head to wind!
We've heard the Midnight Leadsman That calls the black deep down— Ay, thrice we've heard The Swimmer, The Thing that may not drown. On frozen bunt and gasket The sleet-cloud drave her hosts, When, manned by more than signed with us We passed the Isle o' Ghosts!
And north, amid the hummocks, A biscuit-toss below, We met the silent shallop That frighted whalers know; For, down a cruel ice-lane, That opened as he sped, We saw dead Henry Hudson Steer, North by West, his dead.
​So dealt God's waters with us Beneath the roaring skies, So walked His signs and marvels All naked to our eyes: But we were heading homeward With trade to lose or make— Good Lord, they slipped behind us In the tailing of our wake!
Let go, let go the anchors; Now shamed at heart are we To bring so poor a cargo home That had for gift the sea! Let go the great bow-anchors— Ah, fools were we and blind— The worst we stored with utter toil, The best we left behind!
Coastwise—cross-seas—round the world and back again, Whither flaw shall fail us or the Trades drive down: Plain-sail—storm-sail—lay your board and tack again— And all to bring a cargo up to London Town!
# The Seven Seas/The Men That Fought at Minden

Also published in Barrack-Room Ballads (Second Series, 1896).
'THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN'
A SONG OF INSTRUCTION
The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time— So was them that fought at Waterloo! All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, They was once dam' sweeps like you!
Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper. We'll learn you not to forget; An' you mustn't swear an curse, or you'll only catch it worse. For we'll make you soldiers yet!
The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, Six inch 'igh an' more; ​But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied To clean the cook-'ouse floor.
The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; But they got it in the eye (same as you will by an' by) When they clubbed their field-parades.
The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, They kept 'em bright as gold.
The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care They washed be'ind their ears.
​The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and Which they did not bank nor save, But spent it gay an' free on their betters—such as me— For the good advice I gave.
The men that fought at Minden, they was civil— yuss, they was— Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it—so!)— For interrupting songs.
The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things Which I don't remember clear; But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, The rooks will stand the beer!
Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, We'll learn you not to forget; ​An' you mustn't swear an curse, or you'll only catch it worse. And we'll make you soldiers yet!
Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you— All for the sake of the Core; Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you— Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw—Johnny Raw! Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw!
# The Seven Seas/The Miracles

THE MIRACLES
I sent a message to my dear— A thousand leagues and more to Her— The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear, And Lost Atlantis bore to Her.
Behind my message hard I came, And nigh had found a grave for me; But that I launched of steel and flame Did war against the wave for me.
Uprose the deep, by gale on gale, To bid me change my mind again— He broke his teeth along my rail, And, roaring, swung behind again.
I stayed the sun at noon to tell My way across the waste of it; I read the storm before it fell And made the better haste of it.
​Afar, I hailed the land at night— The towers I built had heard of me— And, ere my rocket reached its height, Had flashed my Love the word of me.
Earth sold her chosen men of strength (They lived and strove and died for me) To drive my road a nation's length, And toss the miles aside for me.
I snatched their toil to serve my needs— Too slow their fleetest flew for me— I tired twenty smoking steeds, And bade them bait a new for me.
I sent the lightnings forth to see Where hour by hour She waited me. Among ten million one was She, And surely all men hated me!
Dawn ran to meet me at my goal— Ah, day no tongue shall tell again! And little folk of little soul Rose up to buy and sell again!
# The Seven Seas/The Sergeant's Weddin'

THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN'
'E was warned agin 'er— That's what made 'im look; She was warned agin 'im— That is why she took. 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, 'Went an' done it blind; We know all about 'em, They've got all to find!
Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'— Give 'em one cheer more! Grey gun-'orses in the lando, An' a rogue is married to, etc.
What's the use o' tellin' 'Arf the lot she's been? 'E's a bloomin' robber. An' 'e keeps canteen. ​'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? Gawd, you needn't ask! 'Made 'is forty gallon Out of every cask!
Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, Count us filin' by— Won't the Colonel praise 'is Pop—u—lar—i—ty! We 'ave scores to settle— Scores for more than beer; She's the girl to pay 'em— That is why we're 'ere!
See the chaplain thinkin'? See the women smile? Twig the married winkin' As they take the aisle? Keep your side-arms quiet, Dressin' by the Band. Ho! You 'oly beggars, Cough be'ind your 'and!
​Now it's done an' over, 'Ear the organ squeak, ‘’Voice that breathed o'er Eden’— Ain't she got the cheek! White an' laylock ribbons, Think yourself so fine! I'd pray Gawd to take yer 'Fore I made yer mine!
Escort to the kerridge, Wish 'im luck, the brute! Chuck the slippers after— [Pity 'taint a boot!] Bowin' like a lady, Blushin' like a lad— 'Oo would say to see 'em Both is rotten bad?
Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'— Give 'em one cheer more! Grey gun-'orses in the lando, An' a rogue is married to, etc.
# The Seven Seas/The Lost Legion

First published in The National Observer, May 13, 1893, under the title "A Banjo Song".
THE LOST LEGION
There's a Legion that never was 'listed, That carries no colours or crest, But, split in a thousand detachments, Is breaking the road for the rest. Our fathers they left us their blessing— They taught us, and groomed us, and crammed; But we've shaken the Clubs and the Messes To go and find out and be damned (Dear boys!), To go and get shot and be damned.
So some of us chivy the slaver, And some of us cherish the black, And some of us hunt on the Oil Coast, And some on—the Wallaby track: ​And some of us drift to Sarawak, And some of us drift up The Fly, And some share our tucker with tigers, And some with the gentle Masai (Dear boys!), Take tea with the giddy Masai.
We've painted The Islands vermilion, We've pearled on half-shares in the Bay, We've shouted on seven-ounce nuggets, We've starved on a Seedeeboy's pay; We've laughed at the world as we found it,— Its women and cities and men— From Sayyid Burgash in a tantrum To the smoke-reddened eyes of Loben (Dear boys!), We've a little account with Loben.
The ends o' the Earth were our portion, The ocean at large was our share. There was never a skirmish to windward But the Leaderless Legion was there: ​Yes, somehow and somewhere and always We were first when the trouble began, From a lottery-row in Manila, To an I.D.B. race on the Pan (Dear boys!), With the Mounted Police on the Pan.
We preach in advance of the Army, We skirmish ahead of the Church, With never a gunboat to help us When we're scuppered and left in the lurch. But we know as the cartridges finish, And we're filed on our last little shelves, That the Legion that never was 'listed Will send us as good as ourselves (Good men!), Five hundred as good as ourselves.
Then a health (we must drink it in whispers) To our wholly unauthorised horde— To the line of our dusty foreloopers, The Gentlemen Rovers abroad— ​Yes, a health to ourselves ere we scatter, For the steamer won't wait for the train, And the Legion that never was 'listed Goes back into quarters again! 'Regards! Goes back under canvas again. Hurrah! The swag and the billy again. Here's how! The trail and the packhorse again. Salue! The trek and the lager again.
# The Seven Seas/The Mother-Lodge

Also published in Barrack-Room Ballads (Second Series, 1896).
THE MOTHER-LODGE
There was Rundle, Station Master, An' Beazeley of the Rail, An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, An' Donkin' o' the Jail; An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, Our Master twice was 'e, With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, Old Framjee Eduljee.
Outside—'Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!' Inside—'Brother,' an' it doesn't do no 'arm. We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there!
We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, An' Saul the Aden Jew, An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman Of the Survey Office too; ​There was Babu Chuckerbutty, An' Amir Singh the Sikh, An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, The Roman Catholick!
We 'adn't good regalia, An' our Lodge was old an' bare, But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, An' we kep' 'em to a hair; An' lookin' on it backwards It often strikes me thus, There ain't such things as infidels, Excep', per'aps, it's us.
For monthly, after Labour, We'd all sit down and smoke (We dursn't give no banquits, Lest a Brother's caste were broke), An' man on man got talkin' Religion an' the rest, An' every man comparin' Of the God 'e knew the best.
​So man on man got talkin', An' not a Brother stirred Till mornin' waked the parrots An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva Changin' pickets in our 'ead.
Full oft on Guv'ment service This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, An' bore fraternal greetin's To the Lodges east an' west, Accordin' as commanded From Kohat to Singapore, But I wish that I might see them In my Mother Lodge once more!
I wish that I might see them, My Brethren black an' brown, With the trichies smellin' pleasant An' the hog-darn passin' down; ​An' the old khansamah snorin' On the bottle-khana floor, Like a Master in good standing With my Mother Lodge once more!
Outside—'Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!' Inside—'Brother,' an' it doesn't do no 'arm. We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there!
* ↑ Cigar-lighter.
* ↑ Butler.
* ↑ Pantry.
# The Swiss Family Robinson - 1851

1851 edition, translator not stated
"Our first care was to kneel down and thank God, to whom we owed our lives."—P. 14.
THE
SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON;
OR,
ADVENTURES
IN
A DESERT ISLAND.
A NEW EDITION,
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, ENTIRELY REVISED AND CORRECTED.
WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOHN GILBERT.
LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND CO., SOHO SQUARE. 1851.
PRINTED BY COX (BROTHERS) AND WYMAN, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S-INN FIELDS.
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