OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/I winna gang back

I winna gang back.
[Richard Gall.]
I winna gang back to my mammy again, I'll never gae back to my mammy again; I've held by her apron these aught years an' ten, But I'll never gang back to my mammy again. I've held by her apron, &c.
Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo, Wi' plaidie sae bonnie, an' bannet sae blue: "O come awa', lassie, ne'er let mammy ken;" An' I flew wi' my laddie o'er meadow an' glen. O come awa', lassie, &c.
He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his dow, An' press'd hame his words wi' a smack o' my mou'; While I fell on his bosom, heart-tichtered an' fain, An' sigh'd out, "O Johnnie, I'll aye be your ain!" While I fell on his bosom, &c.
Some lasses will talk to the lads wi' their e'e, Yet hanker to tell what their hearts really dree; Wi' Johnnie I stood upon nae stappin'-stane, Sae I'll never gang back to my mammy again. Wi' Johnnie I stood, &c.
For mony lang year sin' I play'd on the lea, My mammy was kind as a mither could be; I've held by her apron these aught years and ten, But I'll never gang back to my mammy again. I've held by her apron, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/I heard the evening linnet's voice

I heard the evening linnet’s voice.
[John Finlay.—Mr. Finlay was a native of Glasgow, and is well known by his poem entitled, "Wallace, or the Vale of Ellerslie." He died in 1810, at the age of 28.]
I heard the evening linnet's voice the woodland tufts among, Yet sweeter were the tender notes of Isabella's song! So soft into the ear they steal, so soft into the soul, The deep'ning pain of love they soothe, and sorrow's pang control.
I look'd upon the pure brook that murmur'd through the glade, And mingled in the melody that Isabella made; Yet purer was the residence of Isabella's heart!
Above the reach of pride and guile, above the reach of art.
I look'd upon the azure of the deep unclouded sky, Yet clearer was the blue serene of Isabella's eye! Ne'er softer fell the rain drop of the first relenting year, Than falls from Isabella's eye the pity-melted tear.
All this my fancy prompted, ere a sigh of sorrow prov'd How hopelessly, yet faithfully, and tenderly I lov'd! Yet though bereft of hope I love, still will I love the more,
As distance binds the exile's heart to his dear native shore.
# The Book of Scottish Song/I neither gat

I neither gat.
[From "The Edinburgh Literary Gazette," vol. II. 1830.—Air, "Laird o' Cockpen."]
I neither gat plenishing, sillar, nor land, Wi' the bonny wee lassie that ga'e me her hand; But I gat a kind heart, and lovely black e'e, And that was worth manors and mailings to me.
I might had a wife wi' a boarding school air, Bedizen'd wi' trinkets and pearlins sae rare; A weel stockit purse, and a lang pedigree,— But these without true love, wad ne'er suited me.
Commend me to Jeanie, there's grace in her air, And purity reigns in her bosom sae fair; The tones of her voice and the blink of her e'e, And her smile sae bewitching are treasure to me.
When absent frae her, how my bliss is impair'd, Tho' I dine wi' the leddies, and drink wi' the laird; But to meet her again, and her sweet bairnies three, Is worth mailings, and manors, and kingdoms to me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/I mark'd a gem

I mark’d a gem.
[Written by Tannahill. "Tannahill and Smith," says the poet's latest biographer, Mr. P. A. Ramsay, "once went on a fishing excursion with some acquaintances. The two friends being but tyros soon grew weary of lashing the water to no purpose, and separated for a little, each to amuse himself in his own fashion. When Smith rejoined the poet, he was shown this song written with a pencil. Tannahill had been occupied observing a blade of grass bending under the weight of a dew-drop, and this trifling object had suggested to him the simile embodied in the song."]
I mark'd a gem of pearly dew, While wand'ring near yon misty mountain, Which bore the tender flow'r so low, It dropp'd it off into the fountain. So thou hast wrung this gentle heart, Which in its core was proud to wear thee, Till drooping sick heneath thy art, It sighing found it could not bear thee.
Adieu, thou faithless fair! unkind! Thy falsehood dooms that we must sever; Thy vows were as the passing wind, That fans the flow'r, then dies for ever. And think not that this gentle heart, Though in its core 'twas proud to wear thee, Shall longer droop beneath thy art;— No, cruel fair, it cannot bear thee.
# The Book of Scottish Song/I have listen'd

I have listen’d.
[Robert Milliken, bookseller, Glasgow.—Air, "Kelvin Grove."—Here first printed.]
I have listen'd to your sang, bonnie lassie, O, And thought the time nae lang, bonnie lassie, O; There was something in your lay, O' that saft sweet melody, I will mind for mouy a day, bonnie lassie, O.
It was o' that pleasant kind, bonnie lassie, O, That can soothe a weary mind, bonnie lassie,; It was far more dear to me Than the blossom on the tree, To the cheerfu' humming bee, bonnie lassie, O. ​I'll sometimes think on thee, bonnie lassie, O, That sung of Gregorie, bonnie lassie, O, I'll mind the magic spell O' thy voice's dulcet swell, On my ear that softly fell, bonnie lassie, O.
E'en though I should be afar, bonnie lassie, O, Where other winds do war, bonnie lassie, O, In cottage, bower, or hall,
When the evening shadows fall,
To my memory thee I'll call, bonnie lassie, O.
# The Book of Scottish Song/I kenna what's come o'er him

I kenna what’s come o’er him.
[Rev. Thomas Brydson of Levern church, Renfrewshire.—Air, "O, wat ye wha's in yon town."]
I kenna what's come ower him, He's no the lad he used to be; I kenna what's come ower him, The blythe blink has left his e'e. ​He wanders dowie by himsel', Alang the burn and through the glen; His secret grief he winna tell— I wish that he would smile again.
There was a time—alake the day! Ae word o' mine could mak' him glad; But noo, at every word I say, I think he only looks mair sad. The last time I gaed to the fair, Wi' Willie o' the birken-cleugh, Like walkin' ghost he met us there— And sic a storm was on his broo!
I'm wae to see the chiel sae glum, Sae dismal-like frae morn to e'en: Than sic a cast as this had come, I'd rather Willie ne'er ha'e seen. I kenna what's come ower him, He's no the lad he used to be; I kenna what's come ower him— The blythe blink has left his e'e.
# The Book of Scottish Song/I wander'd alane

I wander'd alane.
[Alex. Buchanan.—Air, "Lucy's Flittin."—Here first printed.]
I wander'd alane at the break o' the mornin'— The dun clouds o' nicht were a' wearin' awa',— The sun rose in glory, the grey hills adornin', A' glintin' like gowd were their tappits o' snaw; Adown by my side row'd the rock-bedded Kelvin, While nature aroun' was beginnin' to green, An' auld cottar bodies their yardies were delvin',
Kenin' thrift in the morn brocht pleasure at e'en.
I leant me against an auld mossy clad palin', An' noo an' then dichted a tear frae my e'e— I look'd on the bodies, an' envied their toilin'— Though lowly their lot, they seem'd happy by me.
I thocht on my riches, yet feckless the treasure, I tried to forget, but the labour was vain; My wifie an' bairn were a' my life's pleasure,
An' they to the grave baith thegither had gane.
The thochts o' her love had awaken'd my sorrow,
The laugh o' my bairnie cam' back on mine ears, An' piercin' my heart wi' the force o' an arrow, It opened anew the saft channel o' tears. ​I grat an' I sabb'd, till I thocht life wad lea' me, An' happy I then could ha'e parted wi' life— For naething on earth sic enjoyment could gi'e me, As the glee o' my bairn, an' smile o' my wife.
O weary the day was, when they were ta'en frae me— Leavin' me lane, the last leaf on the tree; Nae comfort the cauld look o' strangers can gi'e me, I'm wae—an' they a' look as waefu' on me. I wander me aften, to break melancholy, On ilk thing that's lievin', the maxim I see, Not walth to the weary 's like peace to the lowly, Sae burden'd wi' grief, I maun gang till I dee.
# The Complete Works of Menno Simons/Index (1)

INDEX.
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
K
L
M
P
R
S
T
W
# The Complete Works of Mrs. E. B. Browning/Volume 1

This edition is limited to Twelve Hundred and Fifty Copies, of which this is
No.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING'S
COMPLETE WORKS
THE ARNO EDITION
THE ARNO EDITION
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF
MRS. E. B. BROWNING
EDITED BY CHARLOTTE PORTER AND HELEN A. CLARKE Volume I.
THE BATTLE OF MARATHON
AN ESSAY ON MIND
JUVENILIA
THE SERAPHIM
AND OTHER POEMS
NEW YORK .·. GEORGE D. SPROUL .·. MDCCCCI
Copyright, 1900 By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY
Contents
Layout 2
# The Complete Works of Mrs. E. B. Browning/Volume 1/Editors' Preface

EDITORS' PREFACE.
In preparing this first fully annotated edition of the complete works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, upon the same general plan as their edition of Robert Browning, the editors have found a virtually unbroken field, so far as notes or explanatory comment upon the allusions employed in the poems are concerned. These allusions are drawn from a wide range of book-culture and a lively acquaintance with the political history of Italy, France, and England. This mass of underlying knowledge is touched upon lightly but constantly by the poet and woven into her work, now by one strand, now by another, as suits her poetic purpose. The result is that her allusions are often blind, but distinctive and interesting, and it is hoped that the elucidation of them here given will be found useful.
The text is based, primarily, upon the author's latest revision appearing in the six-volume edition published after her death under the authority of Robert Browning. For the Juvenilia and scattered poems not included in that edition, the text is based upon the collection and chronological arrangement of Mr. F. G. Kenyon.
To the translations and prose essays collected in the last volume are added, for the first time in any edition, Mr. Horne's account of "Psyche Apocalypté," a drama projected by the poet, the translations from ​Gregory Nazianzen, and the brief prose pieces upon Carlyle and Tennyson, upon Italy and America, and "A Thought on Thoughts."
The Chronological Bibliography will be found completer than any preceding one, including the entry of the various poems first published in America and not recorded in British or other editions earlier than this.
While acknowledgment is given with pleasure of indebtedness to the work of preceding biographers and to the various collections of the letters of the poet, to the "Browning Love Letters," the best commentary on the "Sonnets from the Portuguese," the editors feel peculiarly indebted for light upon the "Sonnets" and on the poet's life; and they desire especially to thank the Messrs. Harper & Brothers, the publishers of these "Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Barrett," for their courteous permission to make quotation from them.
To the Boston Browning Society, whose valuable collection of first editions was consulted, thanks are also due most cordially, and to its president, Mr. Prentiss Cummings, who has authorized the photograph, taken for this edition, of one of the Society's treasures, the bronze cast, by Harriet Hosmer, of the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Browning.
The marble bust of Mrs. Browning, by W. W. Story, adorning the Wellesley "Browning Room," has also been photographed, for the first time, for this edition, and it is a pleasure to the editors to record here their appreciation of this privilege granted them by Miss Caroline Hazard, the President of Wellesley College.
Boston, July 15, 1900.
Layout 2
# The Complete Works of Mrs. E. B. Browning

* Volume I.
* Volume II.
* Volume III.
* Volume IV.
# The Bride of the Sun/Book 5
### BOOK V THE HOUSE OP THE SERPENT

* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night

* related portals: Arabic literature.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, quotes, travel guide, Wikidata item.
كتاب الف ليلة وليلة
LONDON PRINTED FOR SUBSCRIBERS ONLY 1901
Note: The front and back matter (preface, essay and index) are presented here as separate from the volumes. Inside each volume, the original contents, as printed, are available. For convenience, the full contents, without any separation by volumes are also provided at the end. (Wikisource contributor note)
Prefatory Note
* Volume 1
* Volume 2
* Volume 3
* Volume 4
* Volume 5
* Volume 6
* Volume 7
* Volume 8
* Volume 9
The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night: Its History and Character
Index to the Tales
Full Contents (All 9 volumes)
Illustrations
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Subtyl Historyes and Fables of Esope

The version presented here comes from The fables of Aesop, as first printed by William Caxton in 1484, with those of Avian, Alfonso and Poggio Vol. II.
page
* Romulus' Preface
* Liber Primus
* Liber Secundus
* Liber Tertius
* Liber Quartus
* Liber Quintus
* Aesop's Fables not by Romulus
* The Fables of Avian
* The Fables of Alphonse
* The Fables of Poggio
* Errata
* Glossary
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/Abdurrehman the Moor’s Story of the Roc

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
ABDURREHMAN THE MOOR’S STORY OF THE ROC.
There was once a man of the people of Morocco, called Abdurrehman the Moor, and he was known, to boot, as the Chinaman, for his long sojourn in Cathay. He had journeyed far and wide and traversed many seas and deserts and was wont to relate wondrous tales of his travels. He was once cast upon an island, where he abode a long while and returning thence to his native country, brought with him the quill of the wing-feather of a young roc, whilst yet unhatched and in the egg; and this quill was big enough to hold a skinful of water, for it is said that the length of the young roc’s wing, when it comes forth of the egg, is a thousand fathoms. The folk marvelled at this quill, when they saw it, and Abdurrehman related to them the following adventure.
Night ccccv.He was on a voyage in the China seas, with a company of merchants, when they sighted a great island so they steered for it and casting anchor before it, saw that it was large and spacious. The ship’s people went ashore to get wood and water, taking with them skins and ropes and axes, and presently espied a great white gleaming dome, a hundred cubits high. So they made towards it and drawing near, found that it was a roc’s egg and fell on it with axes and stones and sticks, till they uncovered the young bird and found it as it were a firm-set mountain. They went about to pluck out one of its wing-feathers, but could not win to do so, save by helping one another, for all the feathers were not full grown; after which they took what they could carry of the young bird’s flesh and cutting the quill away from the feather-part, returned to the ship. Then they spread the canvas and putting out to sea, sailed with a fair wind all that night, till the sun rose, when they ​saw the old roc come flying after them, as he were a vast cloud, with a rock in his talons, like a great mountain, bigger than the ship. As soon as he came over the vessel, he let fall the rock upon it; but the ship, having great way on her, forewent the rock, which fell into the sea with a terrible crash. So God decreed them safety and delivered them from destruction; and they cooked the young bird’s flesh and ate it. Now there were amongst them old grey-bearded men; and when they awoke on the morrow, they found that their beards had turned black, nor did any who had eaten of the young roc ever grow grey. Some held the cause of the return of youth to them and the ceasing of hoariness from them to be that they had heated the pot with arrow-wood, whilst others would have it that it came of eating the young roc’s flesh; and this is indeed a wonder of wonders.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/Abdallah Ben Maamer with the Man of Bassora and His Slave-Girl

First-level story, told by Shehrzad
ABDALLAH BEN MAAMER WITH THE MAN OF BASSORA AND HIS SLAVE-GIRL.
A certain man of Bassora once bought a slave-girl and reared and educated her excellent well. Moreover, he loved her very dearly and spent all his substance in pleasuring and making merry with her, till he had nothing left and want was very sore upon him. So she said to him, ‘O my master, sell me; for thou needest my price and it makes my heart ache to see the sorry plight to which want hath brought thee. If thou sell me and make use of my price, it will be better for thee than keeping me, and haply God the Most High will prosper thee and mend thy fortune.’ He agreed to this, of the straitness of his case, and carried her to the bazaar, where the broker offered her for sale to the Governor of Bassora, by name Abdallah ben Maamer et Teimi, and she pleased him. So he bought her, for five hundred dinars, of her master, who took the money and was about to go away, when the girl burst into tears and repeated the following verses:
May Allah prosper unto thee the money thou hast got! For me, nought’s left me but lament and memory and woe. I say to my afflicted soul, “Mourn little or mourn much; It skills not, for the loved one’s gone and will return no mo.”
​When he heard this, he sighed heavily and replied thus:
Though there be no recourse for thee in this thy case and thou Find nought but death to solace thee, excuse me yet and know, Evening and morn the thought of thee will company with me, Wherewith a heart I will console, that’s all fulfilled of woe. Peace be on thee! Henceforth for us no meeting shall there be Nor any union more, except Ben Maamer will it so.
When Abdallah heard these verses and saw their affliction, he exclaimed, ‘By Allah, I will have no hand in separating you; for it is manifest to me that ye indeed love one another. So take the money and the damsel, O man, and may God bless thee in them! For parting is grievous to true lovers.’ So they kissed his hand and going away, ceased not to dwell together, till death parted them; and glory be to Him whom death overtaketh not!
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Annotated The Tales of John Oliver Hobbes/The Sinner's Comedy/Dedication

To
ALFRED GOODWIN
(Formerly Fellow of Balliol College, Oxford, and late Professor of Greek and Latin at University College, London),
WHO DIED ON
7th February, 1892.
_____
"He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,  Exceeding wise …
 Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not;  But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer."
"Whatsoever he said, all men believed him that as he spake, so he thought, and whatsoever he did, that he did it with good intent. His manner was, never to wonder at anything; never to be in haste, and yet never slow; nor to be perplexed, or dejected, or at any time unseemly to laugh; nor to be angry, or suspicious, but ever ready to do good, and to forgive, and to speak truth: and all this, as one that seemed rather of himself to have been straight and right, than ever to have been rectified or redressed …"

## Notes

* ↑ “Alfred Goodwin and Professor W.P. Ker took the greatest interest in her progress, and sympathized with her plans and aspirations. They knew her ambition was to excel as a writer, and their criticism was keen and unsparing, helping her to the formation of her style. Goodwin died in the year that the book was published.”
* ↑ In academia, a fellow is a member of a group of learned people who work together as peers in the pursuit of mutual knowledge or practice. The fellows may include visiting professors, postdoctoral researchers and doctoral researchers.
* ↑ founded in 1263, is one of the constituent colleges of the University of Oxford in England. Among the college's alumni are three former prime ministers (H. H. Asquith, who once described Balliol men as possessing "the tranquil consciousness of an effortless superiority", Harold Macmillan, and Edward Heath), five Nobel laureates, and a number of literary figures and philosophers. Moral philosopher Adam Smith is perhaps the best known alumnus of the college.
* ↑ a collegiate research university located in Oxford, England, United Kingdom. While Oxford has no known date of foundation, there is evidence of teaching as far back as 1096,[1] making it the oldest university in the English-speaking world, and the world's second-oldest surviving university.
* ↑ a public research university in London, England, and the oldest and largest constituent college of the federal University of London.[5] Founded in 1826, UCL was the first university institution in London and the first in England to be established on an entirely secular basis, to admit students regardless of their religion and to admit women on equal terms with men.
* ↑ King Henry VIII, The Works of William Shakspere, William Shakespeare
* ↑ archaic past of speak
* ↑ Meditations by Aurelius, XII, Marcus Aurelius
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/The Cobbler's Song

From the musical comedy Chu Chin Chow (1916).
62—THE COBBLER'S SONG (Chu Chin Chow)
I sit and cobble at slippers and shoon, From the rise of sun to the set of moon; Cobble and cobble as best I may, Cobble all night and cobble all day, And I sing as I cobble this doleful lay;—
The stouter I cobble the less I earn, For the soles ne'er crack nor the uppers turn, The better my work the less my pay, But the work can only be done one way.
And as I cobble with needle and thread, I judge the world by the way they tread; Heels worn thick and soles worn thin, Toes turned out and toes turned in There's food for thought in sandal skin, For prince and commoner, poor and rich, Stand in need of the cobbler's stitch. Why then worry what lies before, Hangs this life by a thread no more.
I sit and cobble at slippers and shoon, From the rise of sun to the set of moon; Cobble and cobble as best I may, Cobble all night and cobble all day, And I sing as I cobble this doleful lay.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/The Floral Dance

60—THE FLORAL DANCE
As I walked home on a Summer night. When stars in Heav'n were shining bright, Far away from the foot-lights glare, Into the sweet and scented air—Of a quaint old Cornish town.
Borne from afar on the gentle breeze, Joining the murmur of summer seas, Distant tones of an old world dance Played by the village band perchance—On the calm air came floating down.
I thought I could hear the curious tone of the cornet, clarinet and big trom-bone, Fiddle, 'cello, big bass drum Bassoon, flute and euphonium—Far away, as in a trance; I heard the sound of the Floral dance.
And soon I heard such a bustling and prancing, And then I saw the whole village was dancing,— In and out of the houses they came, Old folk, young folk, all the same,—In that quaint old Cornish town.
Ev'ry boy took a girl round the waist, And hurried her off in tremendous haste Whether they knew one another I care not, Whether they cared at all, I know not—But they kissed as they danced along.
And there was the band with that curious tone, Of the cornet, clarinet and big trom-bone Fiddle, 'cello, big bass drum Bassoon, flute and euphonium, Each one making the most of his chance—All together in the Floral dance.
I felt so lonely standing there, and I could only stand and stare, For I had no maid with me, Lonely I should have to be In that quaint old Cornish town.
When suddenly hast'ning down the lane, A figure I knew, I saw quite plain With out-stretched hands I rushed along, And carried her into that merry throng, And fiddle and all went dancing down.
​We danced to the band with that curious tone, Of the cornet, clarinet and big trom-bone, Fiddle 'cello, big bass drum, Bassoon, flute and euphonium, Each one making the most of his chance, Altogether in the Floral dance. Dancing here, prancing there, Jigging, jogging ev'ry where, Up and down, and round the town, Hur-rah for the Cornish Floral dance.