OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Tamil Proverbs/தீ

தீ.

## தீக் காய்ந்தாற்போல் இருக்கவேண்டும்.

    Act as one who warms himself-do not burn yourself.

## தீக்குக் காற்று உதவியானதுபோல.

    As the wind assists fire.

## தீங்கரும்பனுக்கு மாங்குயிற் கிளவி.

    The notes of the kuyil bird to the sugar-cane-bowed Cupid.

## தீட்டின மரத்தில் கூர்பார்க்கிறதா?

    Is the sharpness of the sword to be tried on the whetting board?

## தீதுறும் பாவச் செய்கை அற்றவன் தேவன்.

    He who abstains from evil deeds is God.

## தீபத்தில் ஏற்றிய தீவட்டி.

    A torch lit at a lamp.

## தீப்பட்ட வீட்டிலே கரிக்கட்டை பஞ்சமா?

    Is there a lack of charred wood in a house on fire?

## தீப்புண் ஆறும் வாய்ப்புண் ஆறாது.

    A burn is curable, but a wound occasioned by slander is not.

## தீ மிஞ்ச வைத்தாலும் பகை மிஞ்ச வைக்கலாகாது.

    Though fire may be in excess, hatred may not.

## தீமையை மெச்சுகிறவன் தீமையாளிதான்.

    He who approves evil is guilty of it.

## தீயாரைச் சேர்ந்து ஒழுகல் தீது, தீயார் பண் செய்யனவும் தீது.

    To associate with the wicked is bad, to serve the wicked is also bad.

## தீயோரை விடுதலை ஆக்குகிறவன் நல்லோருக்கு நஷ்டம் செய்வான்.

    He who liberates the wicked injures the innocent.

## தீரக் கற்றவன் தேசிகன் ஆவான்.

    The thoroughly learned may become a religious guide.

## தீராக் கோபம் பாடாய் முடியும்.

    Unrestrained anger will end in mischief.

## தீராச் கோபம் போராய் முடியும்.

    Unrestrained anger ends in strife.

## தீராச் சந்தேகம் போருக்கு எத்தனம்.

    Continued uncertainty leads to war.

## தீராச் செய்கை சீராகாது.

    An unsettled affair is bad.

## தீராத நெஞ்சுக்குத் தெய்வமே சாட்சி.

    God himself is the witness of the unquiet mind.

## தீராத வழக்குக்குத் தெய்வமே சாட்சி.

    God is the witness in an undecided cause.

## தீரா வழக்கு நேராகாது.

    An intricate case will never end satisfactorily.

## தீவினை செய்யில் பேய்வினை செய்யும்.

    A demon does evil to him who does evil to others.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Mary of Castle-Cary

Mary of Castle-Cary.
[First published at Edinburgh, in May, 1791, in a periodical work, conducted by Dr. Anderson, entitled, "The Bee." The author is Hector Macneil. Tune, "Bonnie Dundee."]
O saw ye my wee thing? Saw ye my ain thing? Saw ye my true love down on yon lea? Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloamin'? Sought she the burnie whar flow'rs the haw tree? Her hair it is lint-white; her skin it is milk-white; Dark is the blue o' her saft rolling e'e; Red, red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses:— Whar could my wee thing wander frae me?
I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing, Nor saw I your true love down on yon lea; But I met my bonnie thing late in the gloamin', Down by the burnie whar flow'rs the haw tree. Her hair it was lint-white; her skin it was milk-white; Dark was the blue o' her saft rolling e'e; Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses: Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me.
It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing, It was na my true love ye met by the tree: Proud is her leal heart! modest her nature! She never lo'ed onie till ance she lo'ed me. Her name it is Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary: Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee:— Fair as your face is, war't fifty times fairer, Young bragger, she ne'er would gi'e kisses to thee.
It was then your Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary; It was then your true love I met by the tree; Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature, Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me. ​Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew, Wild flash'd the fire frae his red rolling e'e!— Ye's rue sair this morning your boasts and your scorning: Defend ye, fause traitor! fu' loudly ye lie.
Awa' wi' beguiling, cried the youth, smiling:— Aff went the bonnet; the lint-white locks flee; The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing, Fair stood the lov'd maid wi' the dark rolling e'e!
Is it my wee thing! is it my ain thing! Is it my true love here that I see! O Jamie forgi'e me; your heart's constant to me; I'II never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Mary Lee's Lament

Mary Lee’s Lament.
[From "The Gallovidian Dictionary," by T. M. Taggart. This "Lament" is written in the Galloway dialect, and displays much rough strength of thought and expression.]
I dinna like the Meg-o'-mony-feet, Nor the brawnet Conochworm, Quoth Mary Lee, as she sat and did greet, A-dadding wi' the storm. Nowther like I the yellow-wymed ask, 'Neath the root o' yon aik tree, Nor the hairy adders on the fog that bask; But waur I like Robin-a-Ree.
Hatefu' it is to hear the whut-throat chark, Frae out the auld taff-dike; And wha likes the e'ening singing lark, Or the auld moon-bowing tyke? I hate them—and the ghaist at e'en That points at me, puir Mary Lee! But ten times waur hate I, I ween, That vile chield, Robin-a-Ree.
Sourer than the green bullister, Is a kiss o' Robin-a-Ree, And the milk on the taed's back I wad prefer To the poison on his lips that be. Oh! ance I lived happy by yon bonnie burn— The warld was in love wi' me; But now I maun sit 'neath the cauld drift and mourn, And curse black Robin-a-Ree.
Then whudder awa', thou bitter-biting blast, And sough through the scrunty tree, And smoor me up in the snaw fu' fast, And ne'er let the sun me see! Oh! never melt awa', thou wreath o' snaw, That's sae kind in graving me; But hide me aye frae the scorn and guffaw O' villains like Robin-a-Ree!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Mary Macneil

Mary Macneil.
[From the Edinburgh Intelligencer, 23d December, 1840.—Air, "Kinloch of Kinloch."—Erskine Conolly, the author of this and several other sweet songs, was born "in Crail toun," Fifeshire, and died at Edinburgh, January 7th, 1843.]
The last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin', Owre mountain an' meadowland glintin' fare-weel; An' thousands o' stars in the heavens were blinkin', As bright as the een o' sweet Mary Macneil. A' glowin' wi' gladness she lean'd on her lover, Her een tellin' secrets she thought to conceal; And fondly they wander'd whar nane might discover The tryst o' young Ronald an' Mary Macneil.
O! Mary was modest, an' pure as the lily That dew-draps o' mornin' in fragrance reveal; Nae fresh bloomin' flow'ret in hill or in valley Could rival the beauty of Mary Macneil. She moved, and the graces play'd sportive around her; She smiled, and the hearts o' the cauldest wad thrill; She sang, an' the mavis cam' listenin' in wonder, To claim a sweet sister in Mary Macneil.
But ae bitter blast on its fair promise blawin', Frae spring a' its beauty an' blossoms will steal; An' ae sudden blight on the gentle heart fa'in', Inflicts the deep wound nothing earthly can heal. The simmer saw Ronald on glory's path hiein'— The autumn, his corse on the red battle-fiel'; The winter, the maiden found heart-broken, dyin'; An' spring spread the green turf owre Mary Macniel!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Mary Scott

Mary Scott.
[Mary Scott, called in song "The Flower of Yarrow," was celebrated for her beauty. She was a daughter of Philip Scott of Dryhope, in Selkirkshire, and was married to Walter Scott of Harden, a noted Border freebooter in the reign of Queen Mary. The ruins of Dryhope tower (the birth-place of the Flower of Yarrow) are still to be seen near the lower extremity of St. Mary's lake. Mary Scott had a lineal descendant, Mary Lilias Scott, also distinguished for her beauty, in whose honour Crawfurd's song of "Tweedside" is said to have been composed, (see page 449). The old song called "Mary Scott the Flower of Yarrow" appears to have been lost. The following is by Ramsay, to the old border air of "Mary Scott."]
Happy's the love which meets return, When in soft flames souls equal burn; But words are wanting to discover The torments of a hopeless lover. Ye registers of heaven, relate, If looking o'er the rolls of fate, Did you there see me mark'd to marrow Mary Scott the flower of Yarrow?
Ah no! her form's too heavenly fair, Her love the gods above must share; While mortals with despair explore her, And at distance due adore her. O lovely maid! my doubts beguile, Revive and bless me with a smile, Alas! if not, you'll soon debar a Sighing swain the banks of Yarrow.
Be hush'd, ye fears, I'll not despair, My Mary's tender as she's fair; Then I'll go tell her all mine anguish, She is too good to let me languish. With success crown'd, I'll not envy The folks who dwell above the sky: When Mary Scott's become my marrow, We'll make a paradise in Yarrow.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Mary Shaw

Mary Shaw.
[Peter M'Arthur.—Here first printed.]
When Mary Shaw cam' to our valley, Sweet and gentle was her form— A lily blossom drooping palely 'Neath the frown of early storm.
Sad was her smile, but words o' pleasure Ever left her guileless tongue; We wonder'd aft that heaven's treasure Fill'd the heart o' ane sae young.
She wander'd where the violet's blossom Spent its fragrance in the shade, Aft she bid it on her bosom Softly rest its purpled head.
But aye it droop'd in pining sorrow, And seem'd as if it whispering said, Dear sister, ere the winters morrow, Cold will be our narrow bed.
And when the year was sadly waning, Ere the rough winds 'gan to rave, Young JIary faded. imcompLoining, Wasted to an early grave.
Now o'er her bed the autumn morrow Strews the wither'd flower and leaf, And the wind wakes its sighs of sorrow, In concert with our tears of grief.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Mary Shearer

Mary Shearer.
[Written by Thomas Atkinson. Set to music by T. M'Farlane. Mr. Atkinson was a bookseller in Glasgow, and author of a vast variety of fugitive pieces in prose and verse. He died of pulmonary disease while on his passage to Barbadoes for the benefit of his health, on the 10th of October, 1833, in the 32d year of his age.]
She's aff and awa' like the lang summer day, And our hearts and our hills are now lanesome and dreary; The sun-blinks o' June will come back ower the brae, But lang for blythe Mary fu' mony may weary! For mair hearts than mine Kenn'd o' nane that were dearer; But nane mair will pine For the sweet Mary Shearer!
She cam' wi' the spring just like ane o' its flowers, And the blue bell and Mary baith blossom'd thegither; The bloom o' the mountain again will be ours, But the rose o' the valley nae mair will come hither! Their sweet breath is fled— Her kind looks still endear her; For the heart maun be dead That forgets Mary Shearer!
Than her brow ne'er a fairer wi' jewels was hung; An e'e that was brighter ne'er glanced on a lover; Sounds safter ne'er dropt frae an aye-saying tongue, Nor mair pure is the white o' her bridal-bed cover. O! he maun be bless'd Wha's allowed to be near her; For the fairest and best O' her kind's Mary Shearer!
But farewell, Glenlin, and Dunoon, and Loch Striven, My country and kin!—since I've sae lov'd the stranger; Where she's been maun be either a pine or a heaven, —Sae across the braid warld for a while I'm a ranger! Though I try to forget— In my heart still I'll wear her:— For mine may be yet, —Name and a'—Mary Shearer!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Matilda

Matilda.
[Written by Alexander Wilson of Paisley, the great American Ornithologist.]
Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep, Ye breezes that sigh o'er the main, Here shelter me under your cliffs, while I weep, And cease, while ye hear me complain.
For distant, alas! from my dear native shores, And far from each friend now I be, And wide is the merciless ocean that roars Between my Matilda and me. ​How blest were the times when together we stray'd, While Phœbe shone silent above; Or lean'd by the border of Cartha's green side, And talk'd the whole evening of love;
Around us all nature lay wrapt up in peace, Nor noise could our pleasures annoy, Save Cartha's hoarse brawling, convey'd by the breeze, That sooth'd us to love and to joy.
If haply some youth had his passion exprest, And prais'd the bright charms of her face, What horrors unceasing revolv'd thro' my breast, While sighing I stole from the place!
For where is the eye that could view her alone, The ear that could list to her strain, Nor wish the adorable nymph for his own, Nor double the pangs I sustain!
Thou moon! that now brighten'st those regions above, How oft hast thou witness'd my bliss, While breathing my tender expressions of love, I seal'd each kind vow with a kiss.
Ah! then how I joy'd, while I gaz'd on her charms, What transports flew swift through my heart! I press'd the dear beautiful maid in my arms, Nor dream'd that we ever should part.
But now from the dear, from the tenderest maid, By fortune unfeelingly torn; 'Midst strangers, who wonder to see me so sad, In secret I wander forlorn;
And oft, while drear midnight assembles her shades, And silence pours sleep from her throne, Pale, lonely, and pensive, I steal thro' the glades, And sigh 'midst the darkness my moan.
In vain to the town I retreat for relief; In vain to the groves I complain; Belles, coxcombs, and uproar, can ne'er sooth my grief, And solitude nurses my pain.
Still absent from her whom my bosom loves best, I languish in mis'ry and care; Her presence could banish each woe from my breast, But her absence, alas! is despair.
Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep, Ye breezes, that sigh o'er the main, Oh! shelter me under your cliffs, while I weep, And cease, while ye hear me complain.
For distant, alas! from my dear native shores, And far from each friend now I be; And wide is the merciless ocean, that roars Between my Matilda and me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Matrimonial Happiness

Matrimonial Happiness.
["This song," says Burns, "was the work of a very worthy, facetious old fellow, John Lapraik, late of Dalfram, near Muirkirk; which little property he was obliged to sell, in consequence of some connection, as security, for some persons concerned in that villanous bubble, The Ayr Bank. He has often told me that he composed this song one day when his wife had been fretting o'er their misfortunes." It will be recollected, that Burns, hearing the song sung at a "country rocking," was so much taken with it that he addressed a rhyming epistle to Lapraik, which opened up a correspondence between them. The poet says,
"There was ae sang amang the rest, Aboon them a' it pleased me best, That some kind husband had addrest To some sweet wife: It thrill'd the heart-strings thro' the breast, A' to the life."
Lapraik was greatly the senior of Burns, having been born in 1727, yet he long survived him, as he died at Muirkirk, where he latterly kept the village post office, in 1807. In 1788, he published at Kilmarnock a volume of poems, but none of them surpassed, if they equalled, the song which drew forth the generous praise of Burns.—Tune, "The Scots Recluse," or "Johnnie's Grey Breeks."]
When I upon thy bosom lean, And fondly clasp thee a' my ain, I glory in the sacred ties That made us ane, wha ance were twain. A mutual flame inspires us baith, The tender look, the meltin' kiss: Even years shall ne'er destroy our love, But only gi'e us change o' bliss.
Ha'e I a' wish? it's a' for thee! I ken thy wish is me to please. Our moments pass sae smooth away, That numbers on us look and gaze; Weel pleased they see our happy days, Nor envy's sel' finds aught to blame; And aye, when weary cares arise, Thy bosom still shall be my hame.
I'll lay me there and tak' my rest: And, if that aught disturb my dear, I'll bid her laugh her cares away, And beg her not to drop a tear. Ha'e I a joy? it's a' her ain! United still her heart and mine; They're like the woodbine round the tree, That's twined till death shall them disjoin.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Meg o' Marley

Meg o' Marley.
[James Hogg.]
O ken ye Meg o' Marley glen, The bonny blue-e'ed dearie? She's play'd the deil amang the men, An' a' the land's grown eery. She's stown the "Bangor" frae the clerk, An' snool'd him wi' the shame o't; The minister's fa'n through the text, An' Meg gets a' the blame o't.
The ploughman ploughs without the sock; The gadman whistles sparely; The shepherd pines amang his flock, An' turns his e'en to Marley; The tailor lad's fa'n ower the bed; The cobler ca's a parley; The weaver's neb's out through the web, An' a' for Meg o' Marley.
What's to be done, for our gudeman Is flyting late an' early? He rises but to curse an' ban, An' sits down but to ferly. But ne'er had love a brighter lowe Than light his torches sparely At the bright e'en an' blythesome brow O' bonny Meg o' Marley.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Mississippi (county)

Edition of 1879. See also Mississippi County, Arkansas and Mississippi County, Missouri on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MISSISSIPPI. I. A N. E. county of Arkansas, bordering on Missouri, separated on the E. from Tennessee by the Mississippi river, bounded W. by the St. Francis river and Lake St. Francis, and intersected by Little river; area, 1,080 sq. m.; pop. in 1870, 3,633, of whom 971 were colored. The surface is low and level, and in the drier portions very fertile, and there are several lakes, the largest of which is Big lake. The chief productions in 1870 were 120,700 bushels of Indian corn, 11,196 of potatoes, and 3,587 bales of cotton. There were 695 horses, 465 mules and asses, 1,347 milch cows, 2,941 other cattle, 583 sheep, and 6,263 swine. Capital, Osceola. II. A S. E. county of Missouri, bounded N. E. and S. by the Mississippi river, which separates it from Illinois and Kentucky, and drained by James and Cypress bayous; area, 380 sq. m.; pop. in 1870, 4,982, of whom 919 were colored. The surface is level and the soil very fertile. The St. Louis and Iron Mountain railroad passes through it. The chief productions in 1870 were 5,225 bushels of wheat, 491,990 of Indian corn, 4,593 of oats, and 57 bales of cotton. There were 853 horses, 692 mules and asses, 1,172 milch cows, 2,814 other cattle, 659 sheep, and 14,588 swine. Capital, Charleston.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Minnehaha

Edition of 1879. See also Minnehaha County, South Dakota on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MINNEHAHA, a S. E. county of Dakota, bordering on Minnesota and Iowa, and drained by the Big Sioux river; area, 816 sq. m.; pop. in 1870, 355. The surface is elevated, and the soil productive. Capital, Sioux Falls.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Minnesota (river)

Edition of 1879. See also Minnesota River on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MINNESOTA, or St. Peter's, a river of Minnesota, having its source in a series of lakes on the Dakota border, between lat. 45° and 46° N., and pursuing a S. E. course for about 320 m. to its confluence with the Blue Earth; then turning N. E. it flows in that direction for about 120 m., falling into the Mississippi at Mendota. Its course is principally in the valley lying between the Coteau du Grand Bois and the Coteau des Prairies. For its whole distance from Big Stone lake it has a fall of only 220 ft. It is navigable for steamers about 40 m. to a point where at low water a ledge of rocks obstructs further progress; but ordinarily small boats can ascend to Patterson's rapids, 295 m. from its mouth.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Minnetarees

Edition of 1879. See also Hidatsa people on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MINNETAREES, a tribe of Indians on the upper Missouri, who are called by the Canadians Gros Ventres of the Missouri, but by themselves Hidatsa. They were originally part of the Crow nation, but separated from it after a quarrel. They came to the Mandans in a state of destitution, nearly all the men having fallen in battle. The Mandans did not allow them to enter their village, but permitted them to settle near. They gradually recovered, and adopted many Mandan customs and ideas, but have retained their own language. Lewis and Clarke in 1804 found the tribe in two villages on opposite sides of Knife river near the Missouri. They numbered 2,500, and traded with the great English fur companies, defending themselves against the Sioux, and making war on the Shoshones and Flatheads. The United States made a treaty with them at the lower Mandan village, July 30, 1825. They have never been hostile to the whites. When the smallpox swept away most of the Mandans in 1838, the Minnetarees were reduced to about 500. In 1842 they numbered about 300 males and 800 females, in 75 lodges, their village lying about 8 m. above the Mandans; but in 1845, under the constant attacks of the Sioux, they united with a part of the Mandans in a palisaded village at their present site, where Fort Berthold was erected the same year. They were then estimated at 760 souls. Though a treaty was made at Laramie in September, 1851, to which they adhered, the Sioux continued their hostilities, and in 1862 killed Four Bears, their head chief, a man of remarkable ability. During the civil war no arms or ammunition was issued to these tribes, while the Sioux procured supplies from the British territory, and in spite of all treaty obligations killed and plundered these unoffending Indians, who were unable to go on their usual hunts. They ceded some of their lands in 1864. In 1870 peace was again made with the Sioux and arms were furnished to the Minnetarees; at the same time a reservation in Dakota and Montana was set apart for them, but in 1873 they were still at Fort Berthold. They are reduced to 528, the Mandans, and since 1863 the Rickarees occupying part of the village. The Minnetarees are tall, well made, and light in color. They dwell chiefly in peculiar earth-covered lodges like those of the Mandans, 30 to 50 ft. in diameter. Every winter they go many hundred miles up the Missouri and Yellowstone valleys to hunt. Their religious ideas and rites are similar to those of the
Mandans. No attempt has been made to civilize or Christianize them beyond occasional visits of Roman Catholic missionaries. An account of the tribe and its language is given in Washington Matthews's “Grammar and Dictionary of the Hidatsa” (New York, 1873); see also “Hidatsa (Minnetaree)-English Dictionary” (New York, 1874).
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Minnesingers

Edition of 1879. See also Minnesang on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
MINNESINGERS (Ger. Minne, love, and Sänger, singer), a school of German poets which sprang into existence in the latter half of the 12th century, and flourished until near the close of the 13th. Their themes were amatory and heroic, and were treated in much the same manner as those of the troubadours of Provence, though in a more earnest spirit and after a purer ideal conception of love. (See Germany, Literature of, vol. vii., p. 763.)
# The Art Journal

* related portals: Newspapers.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, quotes, Wikidata item.
The Art Journal was the most important British 19th-century magazine on art. It was founded in 1839 by Hodgson & Graves, print publishers, 6 Pall Mall, with the title the Art Union Monthly Journal (or The Art Union), the first issue of 750 copies appearing 15 February 1839. It was renamed The Art Journal by 1849. It was published in London but its readership was global in reach.

## Available material

* Vol 30 - 1849 (IA)

## External links

* The Art Journal archive at HathiTrust
# The Art Industry and U.S. Policies that Undermine Sanctions/Section 5

Layout 2
​V. CONCLUSION
As Congress and the Executive Branch consider ways to ensure the effectiveness of sanctions, the role that shell companies play in allowing UBOs to remain anonymous must be considered. While there are legitimate business reasons to retain confidentiality, offshore entities with nominee directors and shareholders pose a significant threat to the success of U.S. efforts to block sanctioned individuals from engaging in prohibited transactions.
The Subcommittee's investigation also makes clear that the voluntary programs in place at auction houses are not enough. Further, there is a lack of transparency in private art sales. As such, Congress should add high-value art to the list of industries that must comply with BSA requirements. Given the intrinsic secrecy of the art industry, it is clear that change is needed in this multi-billion-dollar industry.