OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/Stella's Birthday, 1726-7

STELLA'S BIRTH-DAY.
MARCH 13, 1726-7.
THIS day, whate'er the Fates decree, Shall still be kept with joy by me: This day then let us not be told, That you are sick, and I grown old; ​Nor think on our approaching ills, And talk of spectacles and pills; To morrow will be time enough To hear such mortifying stuff. Yet, since from reason may be brought A better and more pleasing thought, Which can, in spite of all decays, Support a few remaining days; From not the gravest of divines Accept for once some serious lines. Although we now can form no more Long schemes of life, as heretofore; Yet you, while time is running fast, Can look with joy on what is past. Were future happiness and pain A mere contrivance of the brain; As atheists argue, to entice And fit their proselytes for vice; (The only comfort they propose, To have companions in their woes) Grant this the case; yet sure 'tis hard That virtue, styl'd its own reward, And by all sages understood To be the chief of human good, Should acting die; nor leave behind Some lasting pleasure in the mind, Which, by remembrance, will asswage Grief, sickness, poverty, and age; And strongly shoot a radiant dart To shine through life's declining part. Say, Stella, feel you no content, Reflecting on a life well spent? Your skilful hand employ'd to save Despairing wretches from the grave; ​And then supporting with your store Those whom you dragg'd from death before? So Providence on mortals waits, Preserving what it first creates. Your generous boldness to defend An innocent and absent friend; That courage which can make you just To merit humbled in the dust; The detestation you express For vice in all its glittering dress; That patience under torturing pain. Where stubborn stoicks would complain: Must these like empty shadows pass, Or forms reflected from a glass? Or mere chimeras in the mind, That fly, and leave no marks behind? Does not the body thrive and grow By food of twenty years ago? And, had it not been still supplied, It must a thousand times have died. Then, who with reason can maintain That no effects of food remain? And is not virtue in mankind The nutriment that feeds the mind; Upheld by each good action past, And still continued by the last? Then, who with reason can pretend That all effects of virtue end? Believe me, Stella, when you show That true contempt for things below, Nor prize your life for other ends, Than merely to oblige your friends; Your former actions claim their part, And join to fortify your heart. ​For Virtue, in her dally race, Like Janus, bears a double face; Looks back with joy where she has gone, And therefore goes with courage on: She at your sickly couch will wait, And guide you to a better state. O then, whatever Heaven intends, Take pity on your pitying friends! Nor let your ills affect your mind, To fancy they can be unkind. Me, surely me, you ought to spare, Who gladly would your suffering share; Or give my scrap of life to you, And think it far beneath your due; You, to whose care so oft I owe That I'm alive to tell you so.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/Stella to Dr. Swift on his Birthday

STELLA TO DR. SWIFT.
On his Birthday, Nov. 30, 1721.
ST. Patrick's Dean, your country's pride, My early and my only guide, Let me among the rest attend, Your pupil and your humble friend, To celebrate in female strains The day that paid your mother's pains; ​Descend to take that tribute due In gratitude alone to you. When men began to call me fair, You interpos'd your timely care; You early taught me to despise The ogling of a coxcomb's eyes; Show'd where my judgment was misplac'd; Refin'd my fancy and my taste. Behold that beauty just decay'd, Invoking art to nature's aid: Forsook by her admiring train, She spreads her tatter'd nets in vain; Short was her part upon the stage; Went smoothly on for half a page; Her bloom was gone, she wanted art, As the scene chang'd, to change her part; She, whom no lover could resist, Before the second act was hiss'd. Such is the fate of female race With no endowments but a face; Before the thirtieth year of life, A maid forlorn, or hated wife. Stella to you, her tutor, owes That she has ne'er resembled those; Nor was a burden to mankind With half her course of years behind. You taught how I might youth prolong, By knowing what was right and wrong; How from my heart to bring supplies Of lustre to my fading eyes; How soon a beauteous mind repairs The loss of chang'd or falling hairs; How wit and virtue from within Send out a smoothness o'er the skin: ​Your lectures could my fancy fix, And I can please at thirty-six. The sight of Chloe at fifteen Coquetting, gives not me the spleen; The idol now of every fool Till time shall make their passions cool; Then tumbling down time's steepy hill, While Stella holds her station still. O! turn your precepts into laws, Redeem the women's ruin'd cause, Retrieve lost empire to our sex, That men may bow their rebel necks. Long be the day that gave you birth Sacred to friendship, wit, and mirth; Late dying may you cast a shred Of your rich mantle o'er my head; To bear with dignity my sorrow, One day alone, then die to morrow.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/The Answer to Dr. Delany's Request

This poem is a response to the previous poem, From Dr. Delany to Dr. Swift.
THE ANSWER.
THE wise pretend to make it clear, 'Tis no great loss to lose an ear. Why are we then so fond of two, When by experience one would do? 'Tis true, say they, cut off the head, And there's an end; the man is dead; Because, among all human race, None e'er was known to have a brace: But confidently they maintain, That where we find the members twain, The loss of one is no such trouble, Since t'other will in strength be double. The limb surviving, you may swear, Becomes his brother's lawful heir: Thus, for a trial, let me beg of Your reverence but to cut one leg off, And you shall find, by this device, The other will be stronger twice; For every day you shall be gaining New vigour to the leg remaining. So, when an eye has lost its brother, You see the better with the other. Cut off your hand, and you may do With t'other hand the work of two: ​Because the soul her power contracts, And on the brother limb reacts. But yet the point is not so clear in Another case, the sense of hearing: For, though the place of either ear Be distant, as one head can bear; Yet Galen most acutely shews you, (Consult his book de partium usu) That from each ear, as he observes, There creep two auditory nerves, Not to be seen without a glass, Which near the os petrosum pass; Thence to the neck; and moving thorough there One goes to this, and one to t'other ear; Which made my grandam always stuff her ears, Both right and left, as fellow sufferers. You see my learning; but, to shorten it, When my left ear was deaf a fortnight, To t'other ear I felt it coming on: And thus I solve this hard phenomenon. 'Tis true, a glass will bring supplies To weak, or old, or clouded eyes: Your arms, though both your eyes were lost, Would guard your nose against a post: Without your legs, two legs of wood Are stronger, and almost as good: And as for hands, there have been those Who, wanting both, have us'd their toes. But no contrivance yet appears To furnish artificial ears.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/Stella's Birthday, 1724-5

STELLA'S BIRTH-DAY. 1724-5.
AS, when a beauteous nymph decays, We say, she's past her dancing days; So poets lose their feet by time, And can no longer dance in rhyme. Your annual bard had rather chose To celebrate your birth in prose: Yet merry folks, who want by chance A pair to make a country dance, Call the old housekeeper, and get her To till a place, for want of better; While Sheridan is off the hooks, And friend Delany at his books, That Stella may avoid disgrace, Once more the dean supplies their place. Beauty and wit, too sad a truth! Have always been confin'd to youth; The god of wit and beauty's queen, He twenty-one, and she fifteen. No poet ever sweetly sung, Unless he were, like Phœbus, young; Nor ever nymph inspir'd to rhyme, Unless, like Venus, in her prime. ​At fifty-six, if this be true, Am I a poet fit for you? Or, at the age of forty three, Are you a subject fit for me? Adieu! bright wit, and radiant eyes! You must be grave, and I be wise. Our fate in vain we would oppose: But I'll be still your friend in prose: Esteem and friendship to express, Will not require poetick dress; And, if the Muse deny her aid To have them sung, they may be said. But, Stella, say, what evil tongue Reports you are no longer young; That Time sits, with his sithe to mow Where erst sat Cupid with his bow; That half your locks are turn'd to gray? I'll ne'er believe a word they say. 'Tis true, but let it not be known, My eyes are somewhat dimmish grown: For nature, always in the right, To your decays adapts my sight; And wrinkles undistinguish'd pass, For I'm asham'd to use a glass; And till I see them with these eyes, Whoever says you have them, lyes. No length of time can make you quit Honour and virtue, sense and wit: Thus you may still be young to me, While I can better hear than see. O, ne'er may Fortune show her spight, To make me deaf, and mend my sight!
# The Works of Thomas Carlyle/Volume 10

The book compares the lives of 19th century man with that of a medieval abbot.
CENTENARY EDITION
THE WORKS OF
THOMAS CARLYLE
IN THIRTY VOLUMES
VOL. X
PAST AND PRESENT
​ From a photograph taken 31$^{st.}$ July 1854
THOMAS CARLYLE
PAST AND PRESENT
IN ONE VOLUME
NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 153–157 FIFTH AVENUE 1897
Originally published 1843
CONTENTS
Layout 2
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 folk-tales of the Magyars/The Student who was forcibly made King

THE STUDENT WHO WAS FORCIBLY MADE KING.
"Well," said the dragon, "I've made up my mind to enter, so let me know what ordeals you have gone through."
The loaf told him, that when it was a seed it was buried in a field that had previously been dug up: then rotted, sprouted, and grew; it had suffered from cold, heat, rain, and snow, until it ripened; it was then cut down, tied into sheaves, threshed out, ground, kneaded into dough, and then seven times running they put it in a fiery oven, each time before its mates: "If you can stand all this," concluded the loaf, "then I'll let you in, but on no other condition." The dragon, knowing that he could not stand all this, got so angry that he burst in his rage and perished. The student from that day became lord of the fortress, and after the death of his wife's parents became king of two lands; and if he has not died yet, he reigns still.
If I knew that I should fare as well as that student I would become a student this very blessed day!
# The folk-tales of the Magyars/Woman's Curiosity

WOMAN'S CURIOSITY.
Peace was restored, and they lived happily together ever after.
END OF THE TALES.
# The folk-tales of the Magyars/The Wonderful Frog

THE WONDERFUL FROG.
In the evening, as soon as darkness set in, the frog crawled out of the well, and thus commenced to shout in front of Betsie's father's door: "Father-in-law! father-in-law! I should like something to eat." The man got angry, and called out to his daughters; "Give something in a broken plate to that ugly frog to gnaw." "Father-in-law! father-in-law! this won't do for me; I want some roast meat on a tin plate," retorted the frog. "Give him something on a tin plate then, or else he will cast a spell on us," said the father. The frog began to eat heartily, and, having had enough, again commenced to croak: "Father-in-law! father-in-law! I want something to drink." "Give him some slops in a broken pot," said the father. "Father-in-law! father-in-law! I won't have this; I want some wine in a nice tumbler." "Give him some wine then," angrily called out the father. He guzzled up his wine and began again: "Father-in-law! Father-in-law! I would like to go to sleep." "Throw him some rags in a corner," was the reply. "Father-in-law! father-in-law! I won't have that; I want a silk bed," croaked the frog. This was also given to him; but no sooner has he gone to bed than again he began to croak, "Father-in-law! father-in-law! I want a girl, indeed." "Go, my daughter, and lie by the side of him," said the father to the eldest. "Father-in-law! father-in law! I don't want that, I want another." The father sent the second girl, but the frog again croaked: "Father-in-law! father-in-law! I don't want that, Betsie is the girl I want." "Go, my Betsie," said the father, quite disheartened, "else this confounded monster will cast a spell on us." So Betsie went to bed with the frog, but her father thoughtfully left a lamp burning on the top of the oven; noticing which, the frog crawled out of bed and blew the lamp out.
​The father lighted it again, but the frog put it out as before, and so it happened a third time. The father saw that the frog would not yield, and was therefore obliged to leave his dear little Betsie in the dark by the side of the ugly frog, and felt great anxiety about her. In the morning, when the father and the two elder girls got up, they opened their eyes and mouths wide in astonishment, because the frog had disappeared, and by the side of Betsie they found a handsome Magyar lad, with auburn locks, in a beautiful costume, with gold braid and buttons and gold spurs on his boots. The handsome lad asked for Betsie’s hand, and, having received the father’s consent, they hastened to celebrate the wedding, so that christening might not follow the wedding too soon.
The two elder sisters looked with invidious eyes on Betsie, as they also were very much smitten with the handsome lad. Betsie was very happy after, so happy that if anyone doubt it he can satisfy himself with his own eyes. If she is still alive, let him go and look for her, and try to find her in this big world.
# The Writings of Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland/Notes on St. Patrick's Hymn

Notes.
ST. PATRICK'S HYMN.
# The Writings of Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland/Notes on The Confession of Tours

THE CONFESSION OF TOURS.
# The Writings of Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland/Sayings of Patrick

The Doubtful Remains of Patrick.
I.—SAYINGS OF PATRICK.
HE following Dicta Patricii, or Sayings of St. Patrick, are given in Latin in the Rolls edition of the Tripartite Life, p. 301, as contained at the end of the Notes by Muirchu Maccu-Machtheni in the Book of Armagh, fol. 9, a. i. They are, as Dr. Whitley Stokes observes, disconneded from the context in that MS., with the simple heading Dicta Patricii, and are in very rustic Latin. The character of their Latinity renders it highly probable that they may be genuine remains of the saint, while the manner in which the Greek Κύριε ἐλέισον (Lord, have mercy on us) is transliterated into Latin (in Sayings No. 4 and 5) is sufficient to show how slight an acquaintance Patrick had with the Greek language. The latter point confutes Nicholson's arguments (on pp. 84, 85, 168 of his work), in which he seeks to ​prove that 'St. Patrick read the Scriptures from the Greek language alone.'
We have for convenience sake numbered the Sayings, and append them here, with the addition of a few notes:—
1. 'I had the fear of God as the guide of my journey through the Gauls [per Gallias] and Italy, even in the islands which are in the Tyrrhenian Sea.'
2. 'From the world ye have passed on to Paradise.'
3. 'Thanks be to God!'
4. The Church of the Scots, nay even of the ​Romans, (chant) as Christians, so, that ye may be Romans, (chant) as it ought to be chanted with you, at every hour of prayer that praiseworthy sentence. Curie lession, Christe lession ["Lord, have mercy upon us," "Christ have mercy upon us."].'
'Church of the Scots, nay of the Romans, as ye are Christians so also be Romans; and let that praiseworthy sentence be chanted by you at every (canonical) hour, as it ought to be, "Lord, have mercy upon us, Christ, have mercy upon us."'
​5. 'Let every Church that follows me chant, "Curie lession, Christe lession." Thanks be to God!'
# The Writings of Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland

CHRISTIAN CLASSICS SERIES
VI
The Writings of St. Patrick
The Apostle of Ireland.
CHRISTIAN CLASSICS SERIES.
Each volume cloth boards, gilt top, uncut edges.
CHRISTIAN CLASSICS SERIES
VI
THE WRITINGS OF ST. PATRICK
The Apostle of Ireland
A REVISED TRANSLATION WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL
BY THE
Rev. CHARLES H. H. WRIGHT, D.D.
Trin. Coll., Dublin. M.A. of Exeter Coll., Oxford. Ph. D. of University of Leipzig, Donnellon Lecturer (1880–81) in University of Dublin, Examiner in the University of London, Bampton Lecturer (1878), and Grinfield Lecturer on the LXX. in the University of Oxford.
RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
56 Paternoster Row, and 164 Piccadilly
EDITORIAL NOTE.
The Committee of the Religious Tract Society have undertaken the issue of the famous theological treatises included in this Series in the hope that they will be widely read and studied, not only by professed students, but also by the thoughtful general readers of the present day.
Each treatise is complete in itself, and, as far as possible, gives the full text exactly as it came from the pen of the author, even when adherence to this principle involves variation in bulk and price, and the occasional retention of a few passages not fully in accord with the general teaching of the Society. The reader, as a rule, will easily discover these, and will not fail to see their importance in illustrating the weakness, as well as the strength, of the Christian opinion of other days. Care is taken to note such passages where there appears to be need for so doing.
ERRATUM.
The note which appears at the end of the Confession, p. 51, should stand at the end of St. Patrick's Hymn in the Ancient Irish. It was the Dublin MS. of that Hymn which was kindly collated for me by Rev. Professor Abbott, D.Litt., Trinity College, Dublin.
C. H. H. W.
Contents.
The Gresham Press,
UNWIN BROTHERS,
WOKING AND LONDON.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Writings of Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland/St. Patrick's Hymn in Ancient Irish

St. Patrick’s Hymn in Ancient Irish.
From the MS. Liber Hymnorum in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin.
[The principal variants of the Bodleian MS. followed by Dr. Whitley Stokes in the Tripartite Life are given in the brackets.]
Atomriug indiu niurt trén, togairm Trínóit
Cretim treodataid foisin [fóisitin Bodl. MS.] óendatad in Dúlemain Dail
Atomriug indiu niurt gene Crist conabathius
niurt [a Bodl. MS.] crochta conaadnocul
niurt n‑eseirge co fresgabail
niurt toniud do brethemnas bratha
Atomriug indiu niurt grad hiruphín in urlattaid aingel ​[i frestal nanarchaigul Bodl. MS.]
hi frescisin eseirge ar cen fochraice
in ernaigthib huasal athrach
i taircetlaib fatha
hi praiceptaib apstal
in hiresaib fuismedach
in endga noem ingen
hi ngnimab fer firean
Atomriug indiu niurt nime
soilse gr[ei]ne
etrochta snechtai [ései Bodleian MS.]
ane thened
déne lóchet
luathe gaethe
fudomna mara
tairisem talmain
cobsaidecht ailech
Atomriug indiu niurt dé dom luamaracht ​cumachta dé dom chumgabail
ciall dé domm imchus
rose dé dom reimcise [imcaisin Bodl. MS.] cluas dé dom estecht
briathar dé dom erlabrai
lam dé domm imdegail
intech dé dom ditin
sochraite dé domm anucul
ar intedaib demna
ar aslaigthib dualchet
ar irnechtaib [Bodl. MS. foirmdechaib] aicnid
ar cech nduine midús thrastur dam
i cein ocus inocus inuathed ocus hi sochaide
Tocuirius etrum thra na [Bodl. MS. indiu inna] huile nertso [Bodl. MS. neurtasa]
fri cech nert namnas netrocar ​fristi dom churp ocus domm anmain
fri tinchetla [Bodl. MS. taircetlaib] saibḟathe
fri dubseċtu gentliuchta
fri saibrechtu heretecda
fri himcellachht nidlaċta
fri brichta ban ocus goband ocus druad
fri cech fiss ara chuiliu [Bold. MS. adds corp ocus] anman duini
Crist domm imdegail indíu ar neim
ar loscud & ar badud ar guin
comchair [Bodl. MS. conimraib] ilar focraice
Crist lim, Crist rium [Bodl. MS. remam], Crist im degaid, Crist inmum, Crist issum, Crist uasum
Crist dessum, Crist tuathum,
Crist illius, Crist isius [Bodl. MS. ipsius], Crist inerus, ​Crist i cridiu cech duine imim imrorda [Bodl. MS. rodomscrutadar], Crist ingin cech oen [Bodl. MS. duine] ro dom labrathar, Crist in cech ruse [Bodl. MS. iruscc cech] nom dercaedar [Bodl. MS. duine rodomdecadar], Crist in cech cluais rodam chloathar Atomriug indiu niurt trén, togairm Trinoit Cretim treodataid foisitin oendatad in Dulemain dail [The Dubl. MS. has here only the initials f. o. ī. d.] Domim est salus, Domim est salus, Christi est salus, Salus tua Domine semper nobiscum
# The Writings of Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland/Proverbs of Patrick

II.—PROVERBS OF PATRICK.
HE following twelve sayings, styled Proverbia St. Patricii, are given by Villanueva (see Introduction, p. 12), as, according to Jocelin, having been translated into Latin from the Irish. All these 'sayings,' with others, are also given in Latin in the 'Extracts from the Irish Canons' in the Rolls Tripartite, p. 507 ff. Their authenticity is, however, somewhat questionable, although the Biblical quotations are curiously similar to those found in the genuine writings.
1. 'Patrick says: "It is better for us to admonish the negligent, that crimes may not abound, than to blame the things that have been done." Solomon says: "It is better to reprove than to be angry."'
​2. 'Patrick says: "Judges of the Church ought not to have the fear of man, but the fear of God, because the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom" (Prov. i. 7).'
3. 'Judges of the Church ought not to have the wisdom of this world, "for the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God," but to have the "wisdom of God" (1 Cor. iii. 19; i. 21).'
4. 'Judges of the Church ought not to take gifts, because "gifts blind the eyes of the wise, and change the words of the just."'
5. 'Judges of the Church ought not to respect a person in judgment, "for there is no respect of persons with God" (Rom. ii. 11).'
6. 'Judges of the Church ought not to have worldly wisdom (cautelam sæcularem) but Divine examples (before them), for it does not become the servant of God to be crafty or cunning (cautum aut astutum).'
7. 'Judges of the Church ought not to be so swift in judgment until they know how too true it may be which is written, "Do not desire quickly to be a judge."'
8. 'Judges of the Church ought not to be voluble.'
9. 'Judges of the Church ought not to tell a lie, for a lie is a great crime.'
10. 'Judges of the Church ought to "judge just judgment," "for with whatever judgment they shall judge, it shall be judged to them."'
​11. ' Patrick says: "Look into the examples of the elders, where you will find no guile."'
12. 'Patrick says: "Judges who do not judge rightly the judgments of the Church are not judges, but falsifiers (falsatores)."'
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/Pakenham-Mahon, Capt. Henry

​PAKENHAM-MAHON, Capt. Henry, late Capt. Scots Guards; D.L. Co. Roscommon (High Sheriff, 1895). Educ.: Eton. Has shot in the Rockies and up the Pacific coast; Member of several of the Royal Societies; has greatly improved the extensive Strokestown estates and planted the country round, like his predecessors since King Charles II. granted Nicholas Mahon the lands and deer park. Recns.: shooting, farming, forestry, gardening; only son of late Henry Sandford Pakenham-Mahon, D.L., J.P., and Grace (d. 1914), only dau. of Major D. Mahon, of Strokestown, Co. Roscommon; b. 13th July, 1851; m. 1890, Mary, only dau. of Col. Sidney Burrard, late Grenadier Guards, and has issue one dau. Res.: Strokestown Park, Longford, Ireland; 33 Pont Street, London, S.W.1. Clubs: Guards, Carlton, London; Kildare Street, Dublin.