OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/The Forest Vine
## The Forest Vine

It grew in the old wilderness—The vine Is linked with thoughts of sunny Italy, Or the fair hills of France, or the sweet vales Where flows the Guadalquivir. But this grew Where, as the sunlight look'd through lacing boughs, The shadows of the stern, tall, primal wood Fell round us, and across the silent flood, That wash'd the deep ravine. The pauseless lapse Of ages had beheld no change in all The aspect of that scene; or but such change, As Time himself had made; the slow decay Of the old patriarch oaks, and as they fell And moulder'd on the earth, the silent growth Of the young sturdy stem, that rear'd itself To stretch its branches in their former place. The wild flower stretch'd its tender petals out, Lending strange brightness to the forest gloom; The fleet deer toss'd his antlers to the breeze, Graceful and shy; and when the sun went down, The tangled thicket rustled to the tread Of the gaunt wolf—just as in former years. But the red hunter was no longer there; And the bright flowers were no more twined to deck The brow of Indian maid.
We stood beside A fallen oak; its aged limbs were spread Prone to the earth, uptorn by the rude wind, And perishing on the soil that once had fed Their giant strength: clinging around its roots And its decaying trunk, a grape-vine wreathed Its fresh green foliage, draping the still grave With its luxuriance—meet garniture For such a sepulchre! a sepulchre most meet To wrap the bones of the old forest race! For we had checked our idle wanderings To gaze upon the relics of the dead— The dead of other ages! they who trod When that fallen tree was fresh in its green prime,— The earth that it now cumber'd; they who once In savage freedom bounded through the wild, And quaff'd the limpid spring, or shot along The swift canoe upon yon rushing wave, Or yell'd the fierce and horrid war whoop round, Or gather'd to the council fire, or sprang With proud firm step to mingle in the dance, And vaunt of their own triumphs;—there they lie, Brittle and time-blanch'd fragments! bones—dry bones! Prison'd for lingering years beneath the sod, And now that the strong wind hath torn away The bars of their dark cell, restored again To the clear sunshine. It seems strange to think That those wan relics once were clothed with life— Breathing and living flesh—and sprang away O'er the green hills at morning, and at eve, Return'd again to the low cabin home, And found its shadows happiness.
That dust— Gather some to thee—the keen eye can mark No difference from that spread widely round— The common earth we tread upon; yet this Once help'd to form the garment of a mind Once wrapp'd a human heart, and thrill'd with all The emotions of man's nature; love and hate, Sweet hope and stern revenge—ay, even faith In an undying world.
So let them rest! That faith, erring and dark as it might be, Was yet not wholly vain. We may not know Of what the dark grave hideth; but the soul, Immortal as eternity itself, Is in the hands of One most merciful.
# The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/The Indian Mother To Her Son
## The Indian Mother To Her Son

Thy foot is on thy father's grave, Thine eye is on thy father's foes, Here sleeps what once was free and brave! There, last his war-whoop yell arose! And where thy sire's last deed was done, There first thine arm shall wake, my son.
Thou see'st this flower—thy father's heart Hath nourish'd up its early bloom; And thou, to me, hast been a part Of life, and hope, through years of gloom.— The flowret's stem is rent—and thou Must tear thee from thy mother now.
Ay, hie thee forth—the red man's yell, To-night, shall break our foemen's sleep; And shrieks, and flames, and blood, shall tell, How Indian hearts their vengeance keep! How Indian sons in memory nurse Their dying sires’ revengeful curse.
Yon evening wreath of fleecy smoke Curls gently up against the sky,— But once through darker volumes broke The midnight flame, the mother's cry! And there again the day-beam's smile, Shall view a black deserted pile.
The morning of thy life was there Where white man's foot now blights the soil; And there return'd from chase or war, Thy sire was wont to share his spoil— Revenge his death! I charge thee, boy— And win the warrior's noble joy.
# The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/The Kneeling Slave
## The Kneeling Slave

Pity the negro, lady! her's is not, Like thine, a blessed and most happy lot! Thou, shelter'd ‘neath a parent's tireless care, The fondly loved, the theme of many a prayer, Blessing, and blest, amidst thy circling friends, Whose love repays the joys thy presence lends, Tread'st gaily onward, o'er thy path of flowers, With ceaseless summer lingering round thy bowers. But her—the outcast of a frowning fate, Long weary years of servile bondage wait. Her lot uncheer'd by hope's reviving gale, The lowest in life's graduated scale— The few poor hours of bliss that cheer her still, Uncertain pensioners on a master's will— 'Midst ceaseless toils renew'd from day to day, She wears in bitter tears her life away. She is thy sister, woman! shall her cry, Uncared for, and unheeded, pass thee by? Wilt thou not weep to see her rank so low, And seek to raise her from her place of woe? Or has thy heart grown selfish in its bliss, That thou shouldst view unmoved a fate like this?
# The Riddle of the Sands

THE RIDDLE OF
THE SANDS
A RECORD OF SECRET SERVICE
by
ERSKINE CHILDERS
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, Ltd
LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK
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 Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Lass o' Ballochmyle

SONGS.
THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.
TUNE—'MISS FORBES'S FAREWELL TO BANFF, OR ETTRICK BANKS.'
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Rights of Woman. Prologue spoken by Miss Fontenelle

THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.
PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Twa Dogs

POEMS.
THE TWA DOGS.
A TALE.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The gallant Weaver

THE GALLANT WEAVER.
TUNE—'THE AULD WIFE AYONT THE FIRE.'
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Jolly Beggars

THE JOLLY BEGGARS.
A CANTATA.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The young Highland Rover

THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.
TUNE—'MORAG.'
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Lament, occasioned by the Unfortunate Issue of a Friend's Amour

THE LAMENT,
OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S AMOUR.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Ordination

THE ORDINATION.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Lovely Lass of Inverness

THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Vision

THE VISION.
# The Runaway (Chekhov)

English-language translations of Беглец include:
* The Runaway, translated by Robert Edward Crozier Long, 1908
* The Runaway, translated by Constance Garnett
# The Rum Parade

Now ye gallant Sydney boys, who have left your household joys To march across the sea in search of glory, I am very much afraid that you do not love parade, But the rum parade is quite another story. For the influenza came and to spoil its little game, They ordered us to drink a curious mixture; Though at first it frightened some, when we found it mostly rum, Parade became a very pleasant fixture.
 Chorus
So it's forward the Brigade, if they'll hold a rum parade At Pretoria there's nothing to alarm ye; And it's easy to be seen if they leave the quinine, Ye'll be there before the blessed British Army.
Then a corporal he come and he said I drank the rum, But the quinine never reached its destination; For begob he up and swored that I threw it overboard, Sure my heart was filled with grief and indignation. For I'm different to some, I prefer quinine to rum, And I only take the rum just as a favour, And it's easy to be seen I'm so fond of the quinine, That I keep it lest the rum should spoil its flavour.
This work is in the public domain in Australia because it was created in Australia and the term of copyright has expired. According to Australian Copyright Council - Duration of Copyright, the following works are public domain:
* published non-government works whose author died before January 1, 1955,
* anonymous or pseudonymous works and photographs published before January 1, 1955, and
* government works published more than 50 years ago (before January 1, 1974).
This work is also in the public domain in the United States because it was first published outside the United States (and not published in the U.S. within 30 days), and it was first published before 1989 without complying with U.S. copyright formalities (renewal and/or copyright notice) and it was in the public domain in Australia on the URAA date (January 1, 1996). This is the combined effect of Australia having joined the Berne Convention in 1928, and of 17 USC 104A with its critical date of January 1, 1996.
Because the Australian copyright term in 1996 was 50 years, the critical date for copyright in the United States under the URAA is January 1, 1946.
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 Runaway

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Runaway."
* 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 Runaway (Беглец), a story by Anton Chekhov, 1887
* The Runaway by Hannah Cowley
* The Runaway, a poem by Robert Frost
* "The Runaway" by Marion Hepworth-Dixon in The Yellow Book, 13 (1897)
* "The Runaway" by Allen French illustrated by Charles M. Relyea in St. Nicholas, Vol. 41, No. 1, No. 2, No. 3, No. 4, No. 5, No. 6 (1913-14)
** The Runaway by Allen French illustrated by Charles M. Relyea (1914) (start transcription)
# The Russian Review/Volume 1/February 1916/The Sea

Uncredited translation
The Sea.
By W. A. Zhukovsky.
Translated for "The Russian Review".
Sea, calm and silent! O Sea of clear azure!
I stand here enraptured, before thy abyss.
Thou livest, thou breathest, with love never quiet,
With life never placid thy bosom is full.
Sea, calm and silent! O Sea of clear azure!
Come, tell me thy secret, so wondrous, so deep.
What is is that moves to and fro thy vast surface,
What fills thy broad bosom with quickening breath?
Perhaps the blue Heavens so distant attract thee
Away to their heights from the bonds of the earth?
When bright are the Heavens, thou too, shin'st in brightness,
Shin'st here, full of life, so mysterious, yet sweet;
Thou roll'st Heaven's azure upon thy light ripples,
Thou burn'st with the light of the dawn and the eve,
In tender caresses their gold clouds embracest,
And merrily twinklest with their golden stars.
And when the dark clouds gather sombre and threatening,
To steal from thy sight the clear stretch of the sky,
In rage thou dost roar, and, uplifting great billows,
Thou tearest and rendest the gathering gloom.
The dark doth soon vanish, away speed the clouds,
Yet still thou retainest the storm that is past,
Thy billows, in fright, are still rising and falling;
Thy peace comes not wholly when clear is the sky,
Once more when it shines with its radiant azure.
Deceptive, uncertain, thy soft-stirring calm :
Within its abyss storms and tempests are hidden,
Caressing the sky, thou still dreadest its doom.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Russian Review/Volume 1/February 1916/On "The Russian Review"

PRESIDENT BUTLER AND PROFESSOR DEVINE
ON "THE RUSSIAN REVIEW."
(From Letters to the Editor).
...I am very glad indeed to hear of the establishment of "The Russian Review" and trust that it will do much to spread in this country fuller knowledge of the language, the life, the history, and the institutions of the Russian people. We are building up at Columbia University, under the leadership of Professor Prince, what we hope will become a very important Department of Slavonic languages and literatures, and in this Department, of course, chief attention is given to Russian.
NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER,
President of Columbia University.
As one who shares the newly awakened but certainly now very keen interest in this country in Russian affairs, I am very happy to learn of the project for the Russian Review.
There is no doubt that there is need for such information as the Review intends to supply.
EDWARD T. DEVINE,
Director, The New York School of Philanthropy.
# The Russian Review/Volume 1/February 1916/The Sail

A lone white sail on the horizon
Upon the azure sea doth stand.
What seeks he in this foreign region?
What left he in his native land?
The whistling breeze the mast is bending,
The playful waves around him rise.
Ah! not for happiness he searches,
And not from happiness he flies.
The sun is bright as gold above him,
Light spray below, a snowy fleece;
But he, rebellious, seeks the tempest,
As though the storms could bring him peace!
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Russian Review/Volume 1/February 1916/Night of Nights

Night of Nights.
(The Anniversary of the Curse.)
By Constantine Balmont.
Translated by P. Leonov.
In thirty years of life the present is the first,
That I no longer sing sweet flowers and dear caresses:
The Earth a prison seems which the dumb blue oppresses,
A bed of torture cruel, from which the blood-streams burst.
  My spirit, blind and deaf, seems neither dead nor quick,
Awaiting constantly the pointed blades that stun us.
More, ever more, the pains and tortures shower upon us,
Our blood is used as wine for Devil's brood to lick.
And loving still the dews o'er which sweet perfumes hover,
And loving ever still the bright birds' murm'ring lay,
In vain I brush the blood from sacred sheets away.
The heights of Ararat the bloody fumes now cover,
The dreaded Night of Nights is whirling past apace,
Once more shall soon the blood burst forth from the Lord's
face.
August 1, 1915.
# The Romany Rye/Chapter XX

    Farewell to the Romans—The Landlord and His Niece—Set Out as a Traveller.
On reaching the plain above, I found my Romany friends breakfasting, and on being asked by Mr. Petulengro to join them, I accepted the invitation. No sooner was breakfast over than I informed Ursula and her husband that they would find the property, which I had promised them, in the dingle, commending the little pony Ambrol to their best care. I took leave of the whole company, which was itself about to break up camp and to depart in the direction of London, and made the best of my way to the public-house. I had a small bundle in my hand, and was dressed in the same manner as when I departed from London, having left my waggoner’s slop with the other effects in the dingle. On arriving at the public-house, I informed the landlord that I was come for my horse, inquiring, at the same time, whether he could not accommodate me with a bridle and saddle. He told me that the bridle and saddle, with which I had ridden the horse on the preceding day, were at my service for a trifle; that he had received them some time since in payment for a debt, and that he had himself no use for them. The leathers of the bridle were rather shabby, and the bit rusty, and the saddle was old fashioned; but I was happy to purchase them for seven shillings, more especially as the landlord added a small valise, which he said could be strapped to the saddle, and which I should find very convenient for carrying my things in. I then proceeded to the stable, told the horse we were bound on an expedition, and giving him a feed of corn, left him to discuss it, and returned to the bar-room to have a little farewell chat with the landlord, and at the same time to drink with him a farewell glass of ale. Whilst we were talking and drinking, the niece came and joined us: she was a decent, sensible young woman, who appeared to take a great interest in her uncle, whom she regarded with a singular mixture of pride and, disapprobation—pride for the renown which he had acquired by his feats of old, and disapprobation for his late imprudences. She said that she hoped that his misfortunes would be a warning to him to turn more to his God than he had hitherto done, and to give up cock-fighting and other low-life practices. To which the landlord replied, that with respect to cock-fighting he intended to give it up entirely, being determined no longer to risk his capital upon birds, and with respect to his religious duties, he should attend the church of which he was churchwarden at least once a quarter, adding, however, that he did not intend to become either canter or driveller, neither of which characters would befit a publican surrounded by such customers as he was, and that to the last day of his life he hoped to be able to make use of his fists. After a stay of about two hours I settled accounts, and having bridled and saddled my horse, and strapped on my valise, I mounted, shook hands with the landlord and his niece, and departed, notwithstanding that they both entreated me to tarry until the evening, it being then the heat of the day.
# The Private Life, Lord Beaupré, The Visits/Lord Beaupré

LORD BEAUPRÉ
* Chapter 1
* Chapter 2
* Chapter 3
* Chapter 4
* Chapter 5
* Chapter 6
# The Private Life, Lord Beaupré, The Visits

New York: Harper & Brothers; Published 15 August 1893 as part of the Harper's American Story Tellers series; sold for $1. Harpers printed a great many sheets, then bound them in small batches over a period of years, resulting in many binding states. This is the first American book edition of all three stories, though all had previously been published in magazines, and had appeared in the English market book The Private Life, The Wheel of Time, Lord Beaupré, The Visits, Collaboration, Owen Wingrave.
The Private Life
Lord Beaupré
The Visits
BY
HENRY JAMES
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1893
Copyright, 1893, by Harper & Brothers.
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS
| | PAGE |
| THE PRIVATE LIFE | 3 |
| LORD BEAUPRÉ | 79 |
| THE VISITS | 199 |
# The Private Life

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Private Life."
* 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 Private Life", short story by Henry James
* The Private Life, The Wheel of Time, Lord Beaupré, The Visits, Collaboration, Owen Wingrave, short story collection by Henry James
* The Private Life, Lord Beaupré, The Visits, short story collection by Henry James
# The Sacred Wood/Dedication

FOR H.W.E.
'Tacuit et fecit'
"INTRAVIT pinacothecam senex canus, exercitati vultus et qui videretur nescio quid magnum promittere, sed cultu non proinde speciosus, ut facile appareret eum ex hac nota litteratum esse, quos odisse divites solent ... 'ego' inquit 'poeta sum et ut spero, non humillimi spiritus, si modo coronis aliquid credendum est, quas etiam ad immeritos deferre gratia solet.'"—PETRONIUS.
"I also like to dine on becaficas."
# The Sacred Wood

* Dedication
* Introduction
* The Perfect Critic
* Imperfect Critics
* Tradition and the Individual Talent
* The Possibility of a Poetic Drama
* Euripides and Professor Murray
* "Rhetoric" and Poetic Drama
* Notes on the Blank Verse of Christopher Marlowe
* Hamlet and His Problems
* Ben Jonson
* Philip Massinger
* Swinburne As Poet
* Blake
* Dante
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 1965, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 58 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 Song of the Lark/Part 3

Layout 2
PART III
STUPID FACES
* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
* Chapter VI
# The Purple Pennant

​ "Like a white streak, Perry breasted the string" [Page 318]
THE PURPLE PENNANT
BY
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
AUTHOR OF "THE SECRET PLAY," "THE LUCKY SEVENTH," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
NORMAN P. ROCKWELL
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1916
Copyright, 1916, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
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 Sermon on the Mount (Bossuet)/Bossuet’s Preface To The 'Meditations'

Preface
Of all the sermons delivered by Jesus Christ, the most remarkable, as to both time and circumstances, are : — First, the one He delivered on the mountain at the beginning of His preaching, which contains the chief precepts of the New Law, and shows forth its true spirit.
Secondly, those which He preached at the end of His life, from His triumphal entry into Jerusalem up to His death; whilst of these, again, the most remarkable are the two that He gave during the Last Supper and the time following upon it, up to the night of His agony in the Garden of Olives.
We will distribute the reading of Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, and of these other two just mentioned, into days, so that a quarter of an hour may be spent every morning, and the same every evening, in devout meditation on them.
At each fresh Truth proposed we must pause a little to make an act of Faith: — 'I be​lieve; that is true; He who says it is Truth itself.’
Thus we shall look at each particular Truth that He reveals as a portion of that Truth which is Jesus Christ Himself: that is to say, which is God Himself; but God coming near to us — communicating and uniting Himself to us : — for this is what Jesus Christ is.
We must, then, reflect on each particular Truth that He has revealed by His own mouth; fix our hearts on it; love it : — because it unites us to God through Jesus Christ Who taught it to us, and Who has Himself told us that He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
# The Sermon on the Mount (1908)

THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
THE SERMON on the MOUNT
THE SERMON on the MOUNT
From THE TRANSLATION AUTHORIZED
BY KING JAMES, A. D. 1611; together
with THE REVISED VERSION of A.D. 1901
NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1908
Copyright, 1908, by
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
* King James' Version
* Revised Version
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Sermon on the Mount (Bossuet)

THE SERMON
ON THE MOUNT
BY
JACQUES BENIGNE BOSSUET
Bishop of Meaux
Translated, with a short Introduction,
BY
F. M. CAPES
FROM THE 'Meditations on the Gospels'
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1900
[All rights reserved]
Table of Contents
THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Septuagint version of the Old Testament

* The Septuagint Version of the Old Testament (1844) (transcription volumes: 1, 2)
* The Septuagint Version of the Old Testament and Apocrypha (1879)
* The Septuagint Version of the Old Testament and Apocrypha (1900) (transcription project)
# The Snow Image

one or more chapters are available in a spoken word format.

## Contents

* The Snow Image: A Childish Miracle
* The Great Stone Face
* Main-street
* Ethan Brand
* The Canterbury Pilgrims
* The Devil in Manuscript
* My Kinsman, Major Molineux
* The Man of Adamant
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 Snow Image: A Childish Miracle

* "The Snow Image: A Childish Miracle" from The Snow Image
* "The Snow-Image: A Childish Miracle" from Little Daffydowndilly, and other stories, 1887