OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/Carle, an the king come

Carle, an the king come.
[This is an old song—at least the burthen of it is as old as the time of the Commonwealth, when the restoration of king Charles II. was so ardently longed for by the loyalists. In 1822, on the occasion of king George the fourth's visit to Scotland, Sir Walter Scott wrote a long ballad, in two parts, to the tune of "Carle, an the king come."]
Carle, an the king come, Carle, an the king come, Thou shalt dance and I will sing, Carle, an the king come.
An somebody were come again, Then some body maun cross the main; And every man shall ha'e his ain, Carle, an the king come.
I trow we swappit for the worse; We ga'e the boot and better horse; And that we'll tell them at the corse, Carle, an the king come.
When yellow corn grows on the rigs, And gibbets stand to hang the Whigs, O, then we'll a' dance Scottish jigs, Carle, an the king come.
Nae mair wi' pinch and drouth we'll dine, As we ha'e done—a dog's propine— But quaff our draughts o' rosy wine, Carle, an the king come.
Cogie, an the king come, Cogie, an the king come, I'se be fou' and thou'se be toom. Cogie, an the king come.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Callum-a-Glen

Callum-a-Glen.
[James Hogg.—Air, "Malcolm of the Glen."]
Was ever old warrior of suffering so weary? Was ever the wild beast so bayed in his den? The Southron blood hounds lie in kennels so near me, That death would be freedom to Callum-a-Glen. My chief they have slain, and of stay have bereft me, My sons are all slain and my daughters have left me; No child to protect me, where once there was ten, And woe to the grey hairs of Callum-a-Glen.
The homes of my kindred are blazing to heaven, The bright sun of morning has blushed of the view; The moon has stood still on the verge of the even, To wipe from her pale cheek the tint of the dew: For the dew it lies red on the vales of Lochaber; It sprinkles the cot and it flows from the pen. The pride of my country is fallen for ever! Death, hast thou no shaft for old Callum-a-Glen?
The sun in his glory has looked on our sorrow, The stars have wept blood over hamlet and lea: Oh, is there no day-spring for Scotland? no morrow Of bright renovation for souls of the free? ​Yes: one above all has beheld our devotion; Our valour and faith are not hid from his ken; The day is abiding of stern retribution On all the proud foes of old Callum-a-Glen.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Cameron's Welcome hame

Cameron’s Welcome hame.
[James Hogg.—Music by R. A. Smith.]
O strike your harp, my Mary, Its loudest liveliest key, And join the sounding Correi In its wild melodie. For burn, and breeze, and billow, Their sang are a' the same, And every waving willow Sounds, "Cameron's welcome hame."
O list yon thrush, my Mary, That warbles on the pine! Its strain so light and airy, Accords in joy with thine ​The lark that soars to heaven, The sea-bird on the faem, Are singing from morn 'till even, "Brave Cameron's welcome hame."
D'ye mind, my ain dear Mary, When we hid in the tree, And saw our Auchnacary, All flaming fearfully? The fire was red, red glaring, And ruefu' was the pine, And aye you cried despairing, My father's ha's are gane.
I said, my ain wee Mary, D'ye see yon cloud sae dun, That sails aboon the cary, And hides the weary sun? Behind yon cloud sae dreary, Beyond and far within, There's ane, my dear wee Mary, That views this deadly sin.
He sees this ruefu' reavery, The rage of dastard knave; He saw our deeds of bravery, And he'll reward the brave. Though a' we had was given For loyalty and faith, I still had hopes that heaven Would right the heroes' scaith.
The day is dawned in heaven, For which we a' thought lang; The good, the just, is given To right our nation's wrang, My ain dear Auchnacary, I ha'e thought lang for thee, O sing to your harp, my Mary, And sound its bonniest key.
# The Coming of Bill/Book I

CHAPTER
* A PAWN OF FATE
* RUTH STATES HER INTENTION
* THE MATES MEET
* TROUBLED WATERS
* WHEREIN OPPOSITES AGREE
* BREAKING THE NEWS
* SUFFICIENT UNTO THEMSELVES
* SUSPENSE
* THE WHITE HOPE IS TURNED DOWN
* AN INTERLUDE OF PEACE
* STUNG TO ACTION
* A CLIMAX
# The Coming Wave

First published 1874.
* The Coming Wave, published by Lee and Shepherd (1875) (external scan)
* "The Coming Wave" (excerpt) in Pieces People Ask For (1909)
# The Coming of Bill

* BOOK I
* BOOK II
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1975, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 48 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/VII Mother

VII
To Mrs. G. W. Hale
MINNEAPOLIS
21 November 1893
DEAR MOTHER,
I reached Madison safely, went to a hotel, and sent a message to Mr. Updike. He came to see me. He is a Congregational and so, of course, was not very friendly at first; but in the course of an hour or so became very kind to me, and took me over the whole place and the University. I had a fine audience and $100. Immediately after the lecture I took the night train to Minneapolis.
I tried to get the clergymen's ticket, but they could not give me any, not being the headquarters. The thing to be done is to get a permit from every head office of every line in Chicago. Perhaps it is possible for Mr. Hale to get the permits for me. If it is so, I hope he will take the trouble to send them over to me to Minneapolis if they can reach me by the 25th, or to Des Moines if by the 29th. Else I would do it the next time in Chicago. I have taken the money in a draft on the bank, which cost me 40¢.
May you be blessed for ever, my kind friend; you and your whole family have made such a heavenly impression on me as I would carry all my life.
Yours sincerely,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/LXXX Sir

LXXX
To the Editor of Light of the East
1896.
DEAR SIR,[6]*
Many thanks for your kindly sending me several copies of the Light of the East. I wish the paper all success.
As you have asked for my suggestion [that] I can make towards improving the paper — I must frankly state that in my life-long experience in the work, I have always found "Occultism" injurious and weakening to humanity. What we want is strength. We Indians, more than any other race, want strong and vigorous thought. We have enough of the superfine in all concerns. For centuries we have been stuffed with the mysterious; the result is that our intellectual and spiritual digestion is almost hopelessly impaired, and the race has been dragged down to the depths of hopeless imbecility — never before or since experienced by any other civilised community. There must be freshness and vigour of thought behind to make a virile race. More than enough to strengthen the whole world exists in the Upanishads. The Advaita is the eternal mine of strength. But it requires to be applied. It must first be cleared of the incrustation of scholasticism, and then in all its simplicity, beauty and sublimity be taught over the length and breadth of the land, as applied even to the minutest detail of daily life. "This is a very large order"; but we must work towards it, nevertheless, as if it would be accomplished to-morrow. Of one thing I am sure — that whoever wants to help his fellow beings through genuine love and unselfishness will work wonders.
Yours truly,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/L Mother

L
To Mrs. G. W. Hale
54 W. 33RD ST., NEW YORK
11 March 1895
DEAR MOTHER,
Many thanks for your kind letter. I will be only too glad to have an orange coat, provided it be light as summer is approaching.
I do not remember whether the Cook's letters of credit I have are limited as to their time or not. It is high time we look into them. If they are limited, don't you think it is better to put them in some bank? I have about a thousand dollars in the Boston bank and a few hundred in the New York — they all go to India by this week or next. So it is better that I look into the Cook's letters, and it will be foolish to get into trouble by having them past the date.
There are a few more Sanskrit books which have not been sent — one pretty thick and broad, the other two very thin. Kindly send them as soon as you can.
Mrs. [Milward] Adams, Mrs. [Ole] Bull, and Miss Emma Thursby are gone to Chicago today.
With eternal love to the babies and to you and Father Pope.
I remain ever your affectionate Son,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/LXXXVI Miss Thursby

LXXXVI
To Miss Emma Thursby
228 W. 39TH STREET
NEW YORK,
February 26th, 1896
DEAR MISS THURSBY,
Will you oblige me by giving Mr. Goodwin any particulars you can with reference to the business arrangements made for my 6 lectures with Miss Corbin. He will see her, with the idea of obtaining payment.
Thanking you in anticipation, and with best regards,
Very truly yours,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/VI Sharat

VI
To Swami Saradananda
Salutation to Bhagavan Ramakrishna
CALCUTTA
32 ASHADHA [JULY 15, 1890]
MY DEAR SHARAT
I am sorry to learn that [Vaikunthanath] Sanyal's habits are as yet not Pucca [firm]; and what about Brahmacharya? I don't understand you. If so, the best thing for you both is to come down and live here. The widow of Mohindra Mukherjee is trying head and heart to erect a Math for you, and Surendranath Mitra has left another thousand so that you are very likely soon to get a beautiful place on the river. As for all the hardships up there, I reserve my own opinions.
It was not at all my intention to come down, only the death of Balaram Bose had made me have a peep here and go back. If the mountains be so bad, there is more than enough place for me; only I leave Bengal. If one does not suit, another will. So that is my determination. Everyone here will be so glad at your return here, and from your letter I see it would be downright injurious to you if you didn't come down. So come down at your earliest opportunity. I will leave this place before this letter reaches you; only I won't go to Almora. I have my own plans for the future and they shall be a secret.
As for Sanyal, I do not see how I can benefit him. Of course, you are at liberty to hold your own opinion about the Sanga [holy company] here. That I can find places Sudrishya [having scenic beauty] and Subhiksha [where alms are available] is enough. Sanga is not much, or, I think, not at all necessary for me.
Yours, etc.,
NARENDRA.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/LXXXVII Friend

LXXXVII
To Shri Giridharidas Mangaldas Viharidas Desai
228 W. 39TH STREET
NEW YORK
DEAR FRIEND,
Excuse my delay in replying to your beautiful note.
Your uncle[6]* was a great soul, and his whole life was given to doing good to his country. Hope you will all follow in his footsteps.
I am coming to India this winter, and cannot express my sorrow that I will not see Haribhai once more.
He was a strong, noble friend, and India has lost a good deal in losing him.
I am going to England very soon where I intend to pass the summer, and in winter next I come to India.
Recommend me to your uncles and friends.
Ever always the well-wisher of your family,
VIVEKANANDA
PS: My England address is: C/o E. T. Sturdy, Esq., High View, Caversham, Reading, England.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/LXXXV Mrs. Bull—

LXXXV
To Mrs. Ole Bull
228 W. 39
NEW YORK
the 6th of Feb. '96
DEAR MRS. BULL —
I received your last duly, but owing to many things I have given up the idea of taking rest next month. I go to Detroit the first week of March and then, towards the middle or last week, come to Boston. I have not much faith in working such things as the Procopeia [Club] etc.— because these mixed-up conglomerations of all isms and ities — mostly fads — disturb the steadiness of the mind, and life becomes a mass of frivolities. I am very glad, however, to get an opportunity to talk to the graduates of Harvard. This does not mean that I am not coming to Procopeia. I will come but it will be only for your sake. There is one if, however — and that is if I am physically able. My health has nearly broken down. I have not slept even one night soundly in New York since I came; and this year there is incessant work, both with the pen and the mouth. The accumulated work and worry of years is on me now, I am afraid. Then a big struggle awaits me in England. I wish to go to the bottom of the sea and have a good, long sleep.
To Detroit I must go, dead or alive, as I have disappointed them several times last year. There were big money offers from near Chicago. I have rejected them as I do not any longer believe in paid lectures and their utility in any country. If after Detroit I feel the body able to drag itself on to Boston, I will come, else I will remain in Detroit or some other quiet place and rest to recuperate for the coming work in England. So far I have tried to work conscientiously — let the fruits belong to the Lord. If they were good they will sprout up sooner or later; if bad, the sooner they die the better. I am quite satisfied with my task in life. I have been much more active than a Sannyasin ought to be. Now I will disappear from society altogether. The touch of the world is degenerating me, I am sure, so it is time to be off. Work has no more value beyond purifying the heart. My heart is pure enough; why shall I bother my head about doing good to others? "If you have known the Atman as the one, only existence and nothing else exists, desiring what? — for whose desire you trouble yourself?"[6]* This universe is a dream, pure and simple. Why bother myself about a dream? The very atmosphere of the world is poison to the Yogi, but I am waking up. My old iron heart is coming back — all attachments of relatives, friends, disciples are vanishing fast. "Neither through wealth nor through progeny, but by giving up everything as chaff is that immortality attained"[7]* — the Vedas. I am so tired of talking too; I want to close my lips and sit in silence for years. All talk is nonsense.
Yours faithfully,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/LXX Mother—

LXX
To Mrs. Ole Bull
19 WEST 38TH STREET
NEW YORK
9th August '95
DEAR MOTHER —
Your note duly received. I saw also Miss Thursby yesterday. After the hard work at the Thousand Islands, I am taking a few days quiet and preparation for my departure. So I cannot come to Greenacre. I am with Miss Phillips and will be till the 17th, on which day I depart for Europe. I have seen Mr. Leggett. You remember Mrs. Sturges, the widow in black in my classes. She is going to marry Mr. Leggett in Paris. They will be married the 1st week we arrive, and then they go on a tour through Europe, and I, to England. I hope to return in a few weeks — back to New York.
Kindly give to Miss Hamlin [Elizabeth L. Hamlen], to Miss [Sarah] Farmer, Dr. [L. L. Wight] and Miss Howe, and all our friends my greetings, love and good-bye.
Ever sincerely your Son,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/LX Doctor

LX
To Dr. Paul Carus
C/O MISS DUTCHER
THOUSAND ISLAND PARK
N. Y.
[June 1895]
DEAR DOCTOR,
I am in this place now and had to change some of my plans on account of the Toronto Congress.
I am therefore not quite sure whether I will be able to come to Oak Island Conference. It is very possible, however, that I will be able to do so.
I also hope Mr. [Charles Carroll] Bonney will come. He is a noble, noble soul — one who sincerely wishes the fellowship of all humanity.
Is it not true, Dr., that Mr. Bonney, as I have every reason to think, originated the plan of the parliament of religions?
I will certainly try my best to come.
Thanking you very much for your kindness, I remain
Ever yours in the Lord of Compassion,
VIVEKANANDA
P.S. Will you kindly inform me what lines of thought you want me to take.
V.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Letters - Fifth Series/VIII Mother

VIII
To Mrs. G. W. Hale
MINNEAPOLIS
24 November 1893.
DEAR MOTHER
I am still in Minneapolis. I am to lecture this afternoon, and the day after tomorrow go to Des Moines.
The day I came here they had their first snow, and it snowed all through the day and night, and I had great use for the arctics. (A waterproof overshoe.) I went to see the frozen Minnehaha Falls. They are very beautiful. The temperature today is 21^o below zero, but I had been out sleighing and enjoyed it immensely. I am not the least afraid of losing the tips of my ears or nose.
The snow scenery here has pleased me more than any other sight in this country.
I saw people skating on a frozen lake yesterday.
I am doing well. Hoping this will find you all the same, I remain,
Yours obediently,
VIVEKANANDA
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Lectures and Discourses
## Lectures and Discourses

* The Women of India
* The First Step towards Jnana
* Bhakti-Yoga
* The Mundaka Upanishad
* History of the Aryan Race
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 9/Excerpts from Sister Nivedita's Book/Note

NOTES OF SOME WANDERINGS WITH SWAMI VIVEKANANDA
[Excerpts from the book by Sister Nivedita]
Note: In the following work only those extracts which present Swami Vivekananda’s ideas or direct quotations have been printed. Descriptions marking the background context of these talks have also been retained for the sake of clarity and continuity. Ellipses mark the deleted portions. Spelling and punctuation have been made to conform to the style of the Complete Works.
— Publisher
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/There swept adown that dreary glen

XXXIII
There swept adown that dreary glen A wider sound than mountain wind— The thrilling shouts of fighting men, With something sadder far behind.
The thrilling shouts they died away Before the night came greyly down, But closed not with the closing day The choking sob, the tortured moan.
Down in a hollow sunk in shade, Where dark forms waved in secret gloom, A ruined, bleeding form was laid, Waiting the death that was to come.
November 1838.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/Unpublished Poems

UNPUBLISHED POEMS
These Poems, the copyright of the Editors, have never before been printed.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/This summer wind with thee and me

LVI
This summer wind with thee and me Roams in the dawn of day; But thou must be, when it shall be, Ere evening—far away.
The farewell's echo from thy soul Should not depart before Hills rise and distant rivers roll Between us evermore.
I know that I have done thee wrong, Have wronged both thee and Heaven; And I may mourn my lifetime long And may not be forgiven.
Repentant tears will vainly fall To cover deeds untrue, For by no grief can I recall The dreary word adieu!
Yet thou a future peace shalt win, Because thy soul is clear; And I who had the heart to sin Will find a heart to bear.
Till far beyond earth's frenzied strife, That makes destruction joy, Thy perished faith shall spring to life, And my remorse shall die.
March 2, 1844.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/To Imagination

XI
TO IMAGINATION
When weary with the long day's care, And earthly change from pain to pain, And lost, and ready to despair, Thy kind voice calls me back again, Oh, my true friend! I am not lone, While then canst speak with such a tone!
So hopeless is the world without; The world within I doubly prize; Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt, And cold suspicion never rise; Where thou, and I, and Liberty, Have undisputed sovereignty.
What matters it, that all around Danger, and guilt, and darkness lie, If but within our bosom's bound We hold a bright, untroubled sky, Warm with ten thousand mingled rays Of suns that know no winter days?
Reason, indeed, may oft complain For Nature's sad reality, And tell the suffering heart how vain Its cherished dreams must always be; And Truth may rudely trample down The flowers of Fancy, newly-blown: ​But thou art ever there, to bring The hovering vision back, and breathe New glories o'er the blighted spring, And call a lovelier Life from Death. And whisper, with a voice divine, Of real worlds, as bright as thine.
I trust not to thy phantom bliss, Yet, still, in evening's quiet hour, With never-failing thankfulness, I welcome thee, Benignant Power; Sure solacer of human cares, And sweeter hope, when hope despairs!
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/To the Horse Black Eagle, which I rode at the Battle of Zamorna

XXIII
TO THE HORSE BLACK EAGLE WHICH I RODE AT THE BATTLE OF ZAMORNA
Swart steed of night, thou hast charged thy last O'er the red war-trampled plain; Now fall'n asleep is the battle blast, It is stilled above the slain.
Now hushed is the clang of armour bright; Thou wilt never bear me more To the deadliest press of the gathering fight Through seas of noble gore.
And the cold eyes of midnight skies Shall not pour their light on thee, When the wearied host of the conqueror lies On a field of victory.
Rest now in thy glory, noble steed; Rest! all thy wars are done; True is the love and high the meed Thou from thy lord hast won.
In daisied lawns sleep peacefully, Dwell by the quiet wave, Till death shall sound his signal cry, And call thee to thy grave.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/To a Bluebell

XXXIII
TO A BLUEBELL
Sacred watcher, wave thy bells! Fair hill flowers and woodland child, Dear to me in deep green dells, Dearest on the mountains wild.
Bluebell, even as all divine I have seen my darling shine; Bluebell, even as fair and frail I have seen my darling fail. Lift thy head and speak to me, Soothing thoughts are breathed by thee. Thus they whisper, 'Summer's sun Lights me till my life is done; Would I rather choose to die Under winter's stormy sky?
Glad I bloom, and calm I fade, Dews of heaven are round me staid Mourner, mourner, dry thy tears, Sorrow comes with lengthened years.'
May 7, 1839.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/To a Wreath of Snow

LXIII
TO A WREATH OF SNOW
O transient voyager of heaven! O silent sign of winter skies! What adverse wind thy sail has driven To dungeons where a prisoner lies?
Methinks the hands that shut the sun So sternly from this morning's brow Might still their rebel task have done And checked a thing so frail as thou.
They would have done it had they known The talisman that dwelt in thee, For all the suns that ever shone Have never been so kind to me!
For many a week and many a day My heart was weighed with sinking gloom When morning rose in mourning grey And faintly lit my prison room.
But angel like, when I awoke, Thy silvery form, so soft and fair, Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke Of cloudy skies and mountains bare;
​The dearest to a mountaineer Who all life long has loved the snow That crowned his native summits drear, Better than greenest plains below.
And voiceless, soulless, messenger, Thy presence waked a thrilling tone That comforts me while thou art here, And will sustain when thou art gone.
December 1837, Emily Jane Brontë.
# The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/There was a time when my cheek burned

XLI
There was a time when my cheek burned To give such scornful words the lie, Ungoverned nature madly spurned The law that bade it not defy. Oh, in the days of ardent youth I would have given my life for truth.
For truth, for right, for liberty, I would have gladly, freely died; And now I calmly bear and see The vain man smile, the fool deride, Though not because my heart is tame, Though not for fear, though not for shame.
My soul still chokes at every tone Of selfish and self-clouded error; My breast still braves the world alone, Steeled as it ever was to terror. Only I know, howe'er I frown, The same world will go rolling on.
October 1839.