OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838/Corfu

93
* CORFU AND MANDUCHIO FROM MOUNT OLIVET,
* GRECIAN HILLS IN THE DISTANCE.
* Artist: C. Bentley - Engraved by: J. Sands
CORFU.
Oh, Lovely isle! that, like a child,  Art sleeping on the sea,
Amid whose hair the wind is wild,
And on whose cheek the sun has smiled,
 As there it loved to be.
How fair thou art, how very fair,
 A lone and lovely dream,
That sprung on the enchanted air,
A fairy likeness seems to wear,
 A fairy world to seem,
Thou bringest to me a pleasant mood  Of fanciful delight:
To me thou art a solitude
Known only to the sea bird’s brood,
 And to the stars at night.
I should so like to have thee mine,  Mine own—my very own,
The shadows of thy sweeping vine,
Wherein the scarlet creepers twine,
 Broken by me alone.
I would not have a footstep trace  Thy solitary shore:
No human voice—no human face
Should trouble my sweet resting place
 With memories of yore.
I would forget the wretched years  Passed in this world of ours,
Where weary cares and feverish fears,
Ending alike in bitter tears,
 Darken the heavy hours.
But I would dwell beside the sea,  And of the scattered shells
Ask, when they murmur mournfully,
What sorrow in the past may be,
 Of which their music tells.
Winds, waves, and breathing shells are sad—  Methinks I should repine,
If their low tones were only glad,
‘Twould seem too much as if they had
 No sympathy for mine.
Not long such fancies can beguile  Dreams of what cannot be;
Gone is thy visionary smile,
And thou art but a distant isle
 Upon a distant sea.
The island of Corfu is situated at the entrance of the Adriatic Sea, and is the seat of government of the Septinsular Union. It has been immortalized by Homer, and is the imaginary theatre on which many of the fables of mythology were represented. The Venetians and Mussulmans have struggled, with a degree of ferocity disgraceful even to the sanguinary laws of war, for the possession of this spot, and its present independent position throws a species of ridicule upon the designs of the most powerful and resolute monarchs. The extreme length of the island does not exceed thirty-five miles, its greatest breadth is twelve, and its superficies covers about eighty square leagues. The population may be estimated at 6000 souls.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838/Death of the Lion among the Ruins of Sbeitlah

49
* RUINS OF SBEITLAH, THE ANCIENT SUFETULA, TUNIS.
* Artist: C. Bentley - Engraved by: S. Lacey
DEATH OF THE LION AMONG THE RUINS OF SBEITLAH.
Hurriedly, disturbing night
With a red and sudden light,
Came the morning, as it knew
What there was for day to do.
And that ere it sank again,
It must show the Lion's den.
All night long, a sullen roar,
Like the billows on the shore,
Sounded on the desert air,
Telling who was lurking there.
And the sleepless child was prest
Closer to the mother's breast
Girdled by the watch-fire's ray
Did we wait the coming day;
And beneath the morning sun
Flashed the spear and gleamed the gun.
Forth we went to seek the shade
Where the Lion-King was laid.
Dark the towering palm was spread,
Like a giant, overhead;
But the dewy grass below
Served the Lion's path to show.
Long green bough and flowery spray
He had rent upon his way.
By the aqueduct, of old,
Where the silver river rolled,
Long since laid in ruins low—
But there still the waters flow.
Soon decayeth man's endeavour,
Nature's works endure for ever.
There we found the Lion's cave-
There we made the Lion's grave.
Three shots echoed—three—no more,
And the grass is red with gore.
For the claws and skin we come—
Let us bear our trophy home.
Sbeitlah (anciently Sufetula) stands on a spacious plain, at the base of a range of hills that are clothed with the juniper, the cistus, and the pine, and on the right bank of the Wady-Sbeitlah, a limpid stream, rushing in whirling eddies through a deep, meandering, rocky chasm. The principal surviving ruins consist of three contiguous temples, two triumphal arches, a palace, and an aqueduct which spans the stream. Besides ruins of churches, triumphal arches, and other demonstrations of ancient pride, one paved street remains entire. This lonely avenue, that formerly resounded with the trampling of the high-spirited steeds, as they drew, through crowds of admiring citizens, the gorgeous chariot of their imperial master, is now trodden, at long intervals, only by the Christian traveller, who, as his footstep falls, the sole interruption of a death-like silence, disturbs occasionally the lizard or the leffah, basking in the heat of noon. Here, where "sad memory brings the light of other days around us," the solitude of day is succeeded by the terrific sounds that disturb the night—the bark of the prowling wolf, the melancholy scream of the night-bird, and the awful roar of the lordly lion. The vicinity of Sbeitlah is still the Leonum arida natrix, and lion-hunting forms not only one of the chief amusements, but even most profitable occupations: so replete is every spot of ground, every shattered column, nay, every lion slain, with classical feeling and allusion, that this was nature's nursery whence one hundred lions at a time were furnished, for the sports of warlike Rome, at the command of Sylla: Pompey drew hence six hundred, and Caesar was content with four hundred of the fiercest.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838

This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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1
Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher’s Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
TABLE OF CONTENTS :
| To the Queen | 3 |
| The Devotee | 4 |
| Jesuits in Procession—Valetta, Malta | 7 |
| Runjeet Singh, and his Suwarree of Seiks | 10 |
| The Village of Kursalee | 13 |
| The Tournament | 16 |
| Felicia Hemans | 19 |
| The Tombs of the Kings of Golconda | 23 |
| Earl of Egremont | 28 |
| Tunis | 30 |
| Djouni, the Residence of Lady Hester Stanhope | 33 |
| Gibraltar—From the Sea | 36 |
| Miller's Dale, Derbyshire | 39 |
| Captain Cook | 42 |
| The Abbey, near Mussooree | 44 |
| The Church of St. John, and the Ruins of Lahneck Castle | 47 |
| Death of the Lion amongst the Ruins of Sbeitlah | 49 |
| The Ionian Captive | 52 |
| The Cedars of Lebanon | 54 |
| Rydal Water and Grasmere Lake | 57 |
| The Ganges | 62 |
| Warkworth Castle, Northumberland | 65 |
| Can You Forget Me? | 68 |
| Dr. Morrison and his Chinese Attendants | 70 |
| Kalendria | 73 |
| Infanticide in Madagascar | 77 |
| Hurdwar—The Gate of Vishnoo | 81 |
| The Prophetess | 84 |
| Gibraltar. From the Queen of Spain's Chair | 87 |
| The River Wear | 90 |
| Corfu | 93 |
| The Castle of Chillon | 97 |
| Death of Louis of Bourbon | 100 |
| Admiral Benbow | 102 |
| Disenchantment | 107 |
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838/Can you Forget Me?

68
CAN YOU FORGET ME?
an you forget me?—I who have so cherished  The veriest trifle that was memory's link;
The roses that you gave me, although perished,  Were precious in my sight; they made me think,
You took them in their scentless beauty stooping  From the warm shelter of the garden wall;
Autumn, while into languid winter drooping,  Gave its last blossoms, opening but to fall. Can you forget them?
Can you forget me? I am not relying
Man’s faith to woman is a trifle, dying  Upon the very breath that gave it birth.
But I remember hours of quiet gladness,  When, if the heart had truth, it spoke it then,
When thoughts would sometimes take a tone of sadness,
 And then unconsciously grow glad again. Can you forget them?
Can you forget me? My whole soul was blended  At least it sought to blend itself with thine;
My life’s whole purpose, winning thee, seemed ended;
 Thou wert my heart’s sweet home—my spirit’s shrine.
Can you forget me?—when the firelight burning,  Flung sudden gleams around the quiet room,
How would thy words, to long past moments turning,  Trust me with thoughts soft as the shadowy gloom! Can you forget them?
There is no truth in love whate’er its seeming,
 And heaven itself could scarcely seem more true— Sadly have I awakened from the dreaming,  Whose charmed slumber—false one!—was of you. I gave mine inmost being to thy keeping—
 I had no thought I did not seek to share;
Feelings that hushed within my soul were sleeping,
 Waked into voice, to trust them to thy care.
Can you forget them?
Can you forget me? This is vainly tasking  The faithless heart where I, alas! am not.
Too well I know the idleness of asking—  The misery—of why am I forgot?
The happy hours that I have passed while kneeling,  Half slave, half child, to gaze upon thy face.
—But what to thee this passionate appealing—  Let my heart break—it is a common case. You have forgotten me.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Valetta, Capital of Malta

46
* VALETTA, MALTA.
* Artist: T. C. Dibden - Engraved by: J. Tingle
VALETTA, CAPITAL OF MALTA.
he vessel swept in with the light of the morn,
High on the red air its gonfalon borne;
The roofs of the dwellings, the sails of the mast
Mixed in the crimson the daybreak had cast.
On came the vessel:—the sword in his hand,
At once from the deck leapt a stranger to land.
A moment he stood, with the wind in his hair,
The sunshine less golden—the silk was less fair.
He looked o’er the waters—what looked he to see!
What alone in the depths of his own heart could be. He saw an old castle arise from the main,
The oak on its hills, and the deer on its plain.
He saw it no longer; the vision is fled;
Paler the prest lip, and firmer the tread.
He takes from his neck a light scarf that he wore;
’Tis flung on the waters, that bear it from shore.
’Twas the gift of a false one;—and with it he flung
All the hopes and the fancies that round it had clung.
The shrine has his vow—the Cross has his brand;—
He weareth no gift of a woman’s white hand.
A seal on his lip, and an oath at his heart,
His future a warfare—he knoweth his part.
The visions that haunted his boyhood are o’er,
The young knight of Malta can dream them no more.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Wm. Wilberforce, Esq.

61
* Artist: G. Richmond - Engraved by: E. Scriven
WM. WILBERFORCE, ESQ.
BORN AUGUST 14TH, 1759.— DIED JULY 19Th, 1833.
"There are those who first started this mighty question, (slave emancipation,) and broached its godlike principles, who have not lived to see the triumph which is reserved for it in these our days. They laboured in their generation strenuously and vigorously for that fulfilment which we are now about to accomplish, — they were satisfied with the foundation which it was their fortune to lay, and they trusted that it would be strong enough to support the glorious superstructure which is now about to be reared upon it. Like the prophets of old, they hailed the day-star from on high, and exulted in that prospect, which they saw through a glass darkly, and not, as we do, face to face. It is not, however, without feelings of the deepest and most heartfelt satisfaction that I recall to your recollection the fact that one man, the most religiously inspired, the most conscientiously influenced of all who laboured in the dawn and the rising of this great and glorious cause—Wilberforce,—still remains, to witness the final consummation of that important triumph to which his last energies were devoted, and to exclaim, like the last of the prophets to whom I have before alluded, ‘Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.’"—Lord Stanley’s Speech, May 14th, 1833.
The following anecdote is very characteristic of this truly great and christian philanthropist:
"A friend told me that he found him once in the greatest agitation, looking for a despatch which he had mislaid, one of the royal family was waiting for it:—he had delayed the search to the last moment; he seemed at last quite vext and flurried. At this unlucky instant, a disturbance in the nursery overhead occurred. My friend, who was with him, said to himself, Now, for once, Wilberforce's temper will give way. He had hardly thought thus, when Mr. Wilberforce turned to him and said, ‘What a blessing it is to have these dear children!—only think what a relief amidst other hurries to hear their voices, and know they are well.’"—Christian Keepsake for 1836.
He sleeps—yet little of him sleeps below,
Earth has its share, dust unto dust we throw.
His soul is in its native heaven, his mind
Remains with us, to benefit mankind.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838/Death of Louis of Bourbon

100
* THE BISHOP OF LIEGE SLAIN BY ORDER OF WILLIAM DE LA MARCK THE "WILD BOAR OF ARDENNES".
* Artist: J. Franklin - Engraved by: E. Portbury
DEATH OF LOUIS OF BOURBON,
BISHOP OF LIEGE.
How actual, through the lapse of years,
That scene of death and dread appears.
The maiden shrouded in her veil,
The burghers half resolved, half pale;
And the young archer leant prepared,
With dagger hidden, but still bared—
Are real, as if that stormy scene
In our own troubled life had been.
Such is the magic of the page
That brings again another age.
Such, Scott, the charms thy pages cast,
Oh, mighty master of the past!
While Louis of Bourbon proposed terms of accommodation, in a tone as decided as if he still filled the Episcopal throne, and as if the usurper kneeled a suppliant at his feet, the tyrant slowly raised himself in his chair, the amazement with which he was at first filled giving way gradually to rage, until, as the Bishop ceased, he looked to Nikkei Blok, and raised his finger without speaking a word: the ruffian struck, as if he had been doing his office in the common shambles, and the murdered Bishop sunk, without a groan, at the foot of his own episcopal throne.
# Letters on American Slavery/Letter 2

VICTOR HUGO ON AMERICAN SLAVERY.
TO MRS. MARIA WESTON CHAPMAN.
Madame: I have scarcely anything to add to your letter. I would cheerfully sign every line of it. Pursue your holy work. You have with you all great souls and all good hearts.
You are pleased to believe, and to assure me, that my voice, in this august cause of Liberty, will be listened to by the great ​American people, whom I love so profoundly, and whose destinies, I am fain to think, are closely linked with the mission of France. You desire me to lift up my voice.
I will do it at once, and I will do it on all occasions. I agree with you in thinking that, within a definite time—that, within a time not distant—the United States will repudiate Slavery with horror! Slavery in such a country! Can there be an incongruity more monstrous? Barbarism installed in the very heart of a country, which is itself the affirmation of civilization; liberty wearing a chain; blasphemy echoing from the altar; the collar of a negro chained to the pedestal of Washington! It is a thing unheard of. I say more, it is impossible. Such a spectacle would destroy itself. The light of the Nineteenth Century alone is enough to destroy it.
What! Slavery sanctioned by law among that illustrious people, who for seventy years have measured the progress of civilization by their march, demonstrated democracy by their power, and liberty by their prosperity! Slavery in the United States! It is the duty of this republic to set such an example no longer. It is a shame, and she was never born to bow her head.
It is not when Slavery is taking leave of old nations, that it should be received by the new. What! When Slavery is departing from Turkey, shall it rest in America? What! Drive it from the hearth of Omar, and adopt it at the hearth of Franklin? No! No! No!
There is an inflexible logic which develops more or less slowly, which fashions, which redresses according to a mysterious plan, perceptible only to great spirits, the facts, the men, the laws, the morals, the people; or better, under all human things, there are things divine.
Let all those great souls who love the United States, as a country, be re-assured. The United States must renounce Slavery, or they must renounce Liberty. They cannot renounce Liberty. They must renounce Slavery, or renounce the Gospel. They will never renounce the Gospel.
Accept, Madame, with my devotion to the cause you advocate, the homage of my respect.
VICTOR HUGO.
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# Letters on American Slavery/Letter 5

LETTER FROM M. CARNOT.
The question of Slavery is intimately connected with questions of general policy.
The Pagan republics had Slavery for their basis. They were so organized that they could not subsist without it; and so when Slavery was shaken down, they perished. Liberty for the few, on condition of keeping the many in servitude—such was the principle of the ancient societies.
Christianity bids another morality triumph,—that of human brotherhood. Modern societies recognize the principle that each citizen increases the domain of his own liberty by sharing it with his fellows. Republican France put this principle in practice; at her two great epochs of emancipation, she hastened to send Liberty to her colonial possessions.
North America presents a sad anomaly—a contradiction to the general rule with which we have prefaced these reflections, and thence the enemies of Liberty try to justify their departure from it.
They pretend to believe that the Republic of the United States rests on a basis analogous to that of the Pagan republics; and that the application of the new morality will be dangerous to it. But it is not so. Liberty in the United States is founded on reason, on custom, on patriotism, and on experience already old. She can but gain by diffusion even to prodigality. In the United States, Slavery is more than elsewhere a monstrosity, protected only by private interests. It is a source of corruption and barbarism which delays America in the path of European civilization. It is a fatal example that she presents to Europe, to turn her from the pursuit of American independence.
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# Letters on Toleration

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Letters on Toleration."
* 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.
* A Letter Concerning Toleration by John Locke
* Letters on Toleration by John Brown
# Letters on American Slavery/Letter 14

TESTIMONY OF DANIEL O'CONNELL.
I will now turn to a subject of congratulation: I mean the Anti-Slavery Societies of America—those noble-hearted men and women, who, through difficulties and dangers, have proved how hearty they are in the cause of abolition. I hail them all as my friends, and wish them to regard me as a brother. I wish for no higher station in the world; but I do covet the honor of being a brother with these American abolitionists. In this country, the abolitionists are in perfect safety; here we have fame and honor; we are lauded and encouraged by the good; we are smiled upon and cheered by the fair; we are bound together by godlike truth and charity; and though we have our differences as to points of faith, we have no differences as to this point, and we proceed in our useful career esteemed and honored. But it is not so with our anti-slavery friends in America: there they are vilified, there ​they are insulted. Why, did not very lately a body of men—of gentlemen, so called—of persons who would be angry if you denied them that cognomen, and would even be ready to call you out to share a rifle and a ball—did not such "gentlemen" break in upon an Anti-Slavery Society in America; aye, upon a ladies' Anti-Slavery Society, and assault them in a most cowardly manner? And did they not denounce the members of that Society? And where did this happen? Why, in Boston—in enlightened Boston, the capital of a non-slaveholding State. In this country, the abolitionists have nothing to complain of; but in America, they are met with the bowie-knife and lynch law! Yes! in America, you have had martyrs; your cause has been stained with blood; the voice of your brethren's blood crieth from the ground, and riseth high, not, I trust, for vengeance, but for mercy upon those who have thus treated them. But you ought not to be discouraged, nor relax in your efforts. Here you have honor. A human being cannot be placed in a more glorious position than to take up such a cause under such circumstances. I am delighted to be one of a Convention in which are so many of such great and good men. I trust that their reception will be such as that their zeal may be greatly strengthened to continue their noble struggle. I have reason to hope that, in this assembly, a voice will be raised which will roll back in thunder to America, which will mingle with her mighty waves, and which will cause one universal shout of liberty to be heard throughout the world. O, there is not a delegate from the Anti-Slavery Societies of America, but ought to have his name, aye, her name, written in characters of immortality. The Anti-Slavery Societies in America are deeply persecuted, and are deserving of every encouragement which we can possibly give them. I would that I had the eloquence to depict their character aright; but my tongue falters, and my powers fail, while I attempt to describe them. They are the true friends of humanity, and would that I had a tongue to describe aright the mighty majesty of their undertaking!—[Extract from a speech of Daniel O'Connell, at the World's Anti-Slavery Convention in London, 1840.]
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# Letters on American Slavery/Letter 3

LETTER FROM ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE.
I do not think it is for me, a foreigner, to indicate to the United States the time, the measures, or the men by whom Slavery shall be abolished.
Still, as the persevering enemy of despotism everywhere, and under all its forms, I am pained and astonished by the fact that the freest people in the world is, at the present time, almost the only one among civilized and Christian nations which yet maintains personal servitude; and this, while serfdom itself is about disappearing, where it has not already disappeared, from the most degraded nations of Europe.
An old and sincere friend of America, I am uneasy at seeing Slavery retard her progress, tarnish her glory, furnish arms to her detractors, compromise the future career of the Union which is the guaranty of her safety and greatness, and point our beforehand to her, to all her enemies, the spot where they are to strike. As a man, too, I am moved at the spectacle of man's degradation by man, and I hope to see the day when the law will grant equal civil liberty to all the inhabitants of the same empire, as God accords the freedom of the will, without distinction, to the dwellers upon earth.
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