OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Thelyphthora: A Treatise on Female Ruin/Volume III
## Memorandum

The grand question to be tried is, whether a system filled with obligation and responsibility of Men to Women, and Women to Men, even unto death itself, and that established by Infinite Wisdom, is not better calculated to prevent the ruin of the female sex, with all its horrid consequences, both to the public and individuals, than a system of human contrivance, where neither obligation nor responsibility, either of Men to Women or of Women to Men, in instances of the most important concern to Both, but more especially to the weaker sex.
* Chapter 1
* Chapter 2
* Chapter 3
* Chapter 4
* Chapter 5
* Chapter 6
* Chapter 7
* Chapter 8
* Chapter 9
* Chapter 10
* Chapter 11
* Chapter 12
* Chapter 13
* Chapter 14
# Then And Now

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Then And Now."
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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.
* "Then and Now", a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
* "Then and Now", a poem by Thomas Hardy
* "Then and Now", a poem by John McCrae
# Then And Now (McCrae)

Beneath her window in the fragrant night I half forget how truant years have flown Since I looked up to see her chamber-light, Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow thrown Upon the casement; but the nodding leaves Sweep lazily across the unlit pane, And to and fro beneath the shadowy eaves, Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street When all is still, as if the very trees Were listening for the coming of her feet That come no more; yet, lest I weep, the breeze Sings some forgotten song of those old years Until my heart grows far too glad for tears.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Dr. Helsham's Answer to Swift's Epistle to Two Friends

This poem is a response to the previous poem, Epistle to two Friends.
DR. HELSHAM'S ANSWER.
THE doctor's first rhyme would make any Jew sick: I know it has made a fine lady in blue sick, For which she is gone in a coach to Killbrew sick, Like a hen I once had, from a fox when she flew sick: Last Monday a lady at St. Patrick's did spew sick: And made all the rest of the folks in the pew sick, The surgeon who bled her his lancet out drew sick, And stopt the distemper, as being but new sick. The yacht, the last storm, had all her whole crew sick; Had we two been there, it would have made me and you sick: A lady that long'd, is by eating of glew sick; Did you ever know one in a very good Q sick? I'm told that my wife is by winding a clew sick; The doctors have made her by rhyme and by rue sick. There's a gamester in town, for a throw that he threw sick, And yet the old trade of his dice he'll pursue sick; I've known an old miser for paying his due sick; At present I'm grown by a pinch of my shoe sick. And what would you have me with verses to do sick? Send rhymes, and I'll send you some others in lieu sick. Of rhymes I have plenty. And therefore send twenty. Answer'd the same day when sent, Nov. 23.
​I desire you will carry both these to the doctor, together with his own; and let him know we are not persons to be insulted.
"Can you match with me, Who send thirty-three? You must get fourteen more, To make up thirty-four: But, if me you can conquer, I'll own you a strong cur."
This morning I'm growing, by smelling of yew, sick; My brother's come over with gold from Peru sick; Last night I came home in a storm that then blew sick; This moment my dog at a cat I halloo sick; I hear, from good hands, that my poor cousin Hugh's sick; By quaffing a bottle, and pulling a screw sick: And now there's no more I can write (you'll excuse) sick; You see that I scorn to mention word musick. I'll do my best, To send the rest; Without a jest, I'll stand the test.
These lines that I send you, I hope you'll peruse sick; I'll make you with writing a little more news sick; Last night I came home with drinking of booze sick; ​My carpenter swears that he'll hack and he'll hew sick; An officer's lady, I'm told, is tattoo sick; I'm afraid that the line thirty-four you will view sick. Lord; I could write a dozen more; You see, I've mounted thirty-four.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epigram on Dr. Rundle, Bishop of Derry

EPIGRAM.
FRIEND Rundle fell, with grievous bump, Upon his reverential rump. Poor rump! thou hadst been better sped, Hadst thou been join'd to Boulter's head; A head, so weighty and profound, Would needs have kept thee from the ground.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epigram on Two Great Men

EPIGRAM ON TWO GREAT MEN. 1745.
TWO geniuses one age and nation grace: Pride of our isles, and boast of human race! Great sage! great bard! supreme in knowledge born! The world to mend, enlighten, and adorn! Truth on Cimmerian darkness pours the day! Wit drives in smiles the gloom of minds away! Ye kindred suns on high, ye glorious spheres, Whom have ye seen, in twice three thousand years, Whom have ye seen, like these, of mortal birth; Though Archimede and Horace blest the earth? Barbarians, from th' Equator to the Poles, Hark! reason calls! wisdom awakes your souls! Ye regions, ignorant of Walpole's name; Ye climes, where kings shall ne'er extend their fame; ​Where men, miscall'd, God's image have defac'd, Their form belied, and human shape disgrac'd! Ye two-legg'd wolves! slaves! superstitious sons! Lords! soldiers! holy Vandals! modern Huns! Boors, mufties, monks; in Russia, Turkey, Spain! Who does not know Sir Isaac, and The Dean?
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epigram on an Irish Magazine

EPIGRAM.
BEHOLD! a proof of Irish sense; Here Irish wit is seen! When nothing's left, that's worth defence, We build a magazine.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Drapier's Hill

DRAPIER'S-HILL. 1730.
WE give the world to understand, Our thriving dean has purchas'd land; A purchase, which will bring him clear Above his rent four pounds a year; Provided, to improve the ground, He will but add two hundred pound; And, from his endless hoarded store, To build a house, five hundred more. Sir Arthur too shall have his will, And call the mansion Drapier's Hill: That, when a nation, long enslav'd, Forgets by whom it once was sav'd; When none the Drapier's praise shall sing, His signs aloft no longer swing, His medals and his prints forgotten, And all his handkerchiefs are rotten, His famous letters made waste paper, This hill may keep the name of Drapier; In spite of envy, flourish still, And Drapier's vie with Cooper's hill.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epigrams on the Busts in Richmond Hermitage

The next poem, Conclusion from these Epigrams, with Dr. Swift's Answer, is a response to this poem.
EPIGRAM,
ON THE BUSTS IN RICHMOND HERMITAGE. 1732.
"Sic siti lætantur docti."
WITH honour thus by Carolina plac'd, How are these venerable bustoes grac'd! O queen, with more than regal title crown'd, For love of arts and piety renown'd! How do the friends of virtue joy to see Her darling sons exalted thus by thee! Nought to their fame can now be added more, Rever'd by her whom all mankind adore.
ANOTHER.
LEWIS the living learned fed, And rais'd the scientifick head: Our frugal queen, to save her meat, Exalts the heads that cannot eat.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/From My Much-Honour'd Friend at Heldelville

FROM MY MUCH HONOURED FRIEND AT HELDELVILLE, [DR. DELANY].
HAIL to the sage, who, from his native store, Produc'd a science never known before,
| Science of words, once jargon of the schools, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ |
| The plague of wise men, and the boast of fools, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ |
| Made easy now and useful in your rules! | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ |
Our mirth at once to raise and to refine, Till now not half the worth of sounds we knew, Their virtual value was reserv'd for you. To trace their various mazes, and set forth Their hidden force, and multiply their worth; For if t' express one sense our words we choose, A double meaning is of double use. Hail, sacred Art! by what mysterious name Shall I adore thee, various, and the same? The Muses' Proteus, skill'd with grateful change, Through all the pleasing forms of wit to range In quick succession, yet retain through all Some faint resemblance of th' original. Hail, fairest offspring of prodigious birth, At once the parent and the child of Mirth! With Chloe's charms thy airy form can vie, And with thy smiles as many thousands die; The pleasing pain through all their vitals thrills, With subtle force, and tickles as it kills. Thee too, like her, the dying swains pursue, As gay, as careless, as inconstant too;
| To raise yet more thy merit and thy fame, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ |
| The Cyprian Goddess glories in thy name, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ |
| Pleas'd to be thought the laughter-loving dame. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ |
Thou lovely, fleeting, image of a sound.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epitaph Proposed for Dr. Swift

EPITAPH, PROPOSED FOR DR. SWIFT. 1745.
HIC JACET DEMOCRITVS ILLE NEOTERICVS, RABELAESIVS NOSTER, IONATHAN SWIFT, S.T.P., HVIVS CATHEDRALIS NUPER DECANVS; MOMI, MVSARVM, MINERVAE, ALVMNVS PERQVAM DILECTVS; INSVLSIS, HYPOCRITIS, THEOMACHIS, IVXTA EXOSVS; QVOS TRIBVTIM SVMMO CVM LEPORE DERISIT, DENVDAVIT, DEBELLAVIT. PATRIAE INFELICIS PATRONVS IMPIGER, ET PROPVGNATOR. PRIMORES ARRIPVIT, POPVLVMQVE INTERRITVS, VNI SCILICET AEQVVS VIRTVTI. HANC FAVILLAM SI QVIS ADES, NEC PENITVS EXCORS VIDETVR, DEBITA SPARGES LACRYMA.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epistle to Two Friends

The next poem, Dr. Helsham's Answer, is a response to this poem.
AN EPISTLE TO TWO FRIENDS.
TO DR. HELSHAM.
WHEN I left you, I found myself of the grape's juice sick; I'm so full of pity, I never abuse sick; And the patientest patient ever you knew sick: Both when I am purge-sick, and when I am spew-sick. I pitied my cat, whom I knew by her mew sick: She mended at first, but now she's anew sick. Captain Butler made some in the church black and blue sick. Dean Cross, had he preach'd, would have made us all pew-sick. Are not you, in a crowd when you sweat and you stew, sick? Lady Santry got out of the church when she grew sick, And, as fast as she could, to the deanery flew sick. Miss Morice was (I can you assure 'tis true) sick: For, who would not be in that numerous crew sick? Such musick would make a fanatick or Jew sick, Yet, ladies are seldom at ombre or loo sick. ​Nor is old Nanny Shales, whene'er she does brew, sick. My footman came home from the church of a bruise sick, And look'd like a rake, who was made in the stews sick; But you learned doctors can make whom you choose sick: And poor I myself was, when I withdrew, sick; For the smell of them made me like garlick and rue sick, And I got through the crowd, though not led by a clew, sick. Yet hop'd to find many (for that was your cue) sick; But there was not a dozen (to give them their due) sick, And those to be sure, stuck together like glew, sick. So are ladies in crowds, when they squeeze and they screw, sick; You may find they are all, by their yellow pale hue, sick; So am I, when tobacco, like Robin, I chew, sick.
TO DR. SHERIDAN.
IF I write any more, it will make my poor Muse sick. This night I came home with a very cold dew sick. And I wish I may soon be not of an ague sick; But I hope I shall ne'er be like you, of a shrew sick, Who often has made me, by looking askew, sick.
* ↑ This medley (for it cannot be called a poem) is given as a specimen of those bagatelles for which the dean hath perhaps been too severely censured.
* ↑ Richard Helsham, M. D. professor of physick and natural philosophy in the university of Dublin. See the Preface to Delany on Polygamy.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/Epitaph on the Duke of Schomberg

EPITAPH
on
FREDERICK DUKE OF SCHOMBERG.
Hic infra situm est corpus FREDERICI DUCIS DE SCHOMBERG. ad BUDINDAM occisi, A. D. 1690. DECANUS et CAPITULUM maximopere etiam atque etiam petierunt, Ut hæredes ducis monumentum In memoriam parentis erigendum curarent: Sed postquam per epistolas, per amicos, diu ac sæpè orando nil profecêre; Hunc demum lapidem ipsi statuerunt, Saltem ut scias, hospes, Ubinam terrarum SCONBERGENSIS cineres delitescunt. "Plus potuit fama virtutis apud alienos, Quam sanguinis proximitas apud suos." A. D. 1731.
* ↑ The duke was unhappily killed, in crossing the river Boyne, July 1, 1690; and was buried in St. Patrick's cathedral; where the dean and chapter erected a small monument to his honour, at their own expense.
* ↑ The words that Dr. Swift first concluded the epitaph with were, "Saltem ut sciat viator indignabundus, quali in cellulâ tanti ductoris cineres delitescunt."
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Letter from William St. Lawrence to Jonathan Swift - 1

FROM LORD HOWTH.
KILLFANE, JULY 6, 1735.
I AM very much obliged to my good dean of St. Patrick's for the honour he did me in sitting for his picture; and have wrote to Dr. Grattan to give Mr. Bindon strict charge in the finishing of it: and when that is done to bring it to his house, for fear I should get a copy instead of the original. I am very much concerned at the account you give me of your health, but do not in the least doubt but the change of air would be of service to you, and a most hearty welcome you may be sure of. The archbishop of Cashel told me he would wait on you the day after he went to Dublin; and does mightily admire be has not seen you oftener. I have taken your advice;, and kept very good hours since I came last here. Every second day I am out six or seven hours an otter hunting. As to reading and working, my wife observes your directions: and could wish she would do the same as to exercise. She desires me to tell you that the liking she has to the baboon is out of the true regard she has for you, he being one of your greatest favourites. Your giant will use ​ her endeavours to make lord Bacon a liar, and instead of adding two inches to her height, would be very well satisfied to part with four. I am very sorry Mrs. Acheson is so much out of order: she is one I have a great regard for; and shall desire the favour of you to give my wife's service and mine to her, and lady Acheson, when you see them. I thank God my family and I are very well. Some time this summer I design drinking Ballispellin waters for a month. As for news we have no such thing here: only the baboon has done his visitation; that is, he goes into the churches and looks about, then asks the tumbler Sikes how long they have been coming? So long, says Sikes. Ay, replies the baboon, and we shall be as long going back; so mounts his horse and away. Who durst say the church is in danger when we have so good bishops? My wife and all here join in their kind service to the drapier. I am, good Mr. dean, your most assured and affectionate humble servant,
HOWTH.
* ↑ The bishop of Ossory so called. Could you see his grin, for a pound to a penny, You'd swear it must be the baboon of Killkenny. See Swift's Poem on the Bishops.
* ↑ Miss Rice, an exceeding tall young lady, and niece to my lord Howth.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Ode to King William, on his Successes in Ireland

ODE
TO KING WILLIAM,
ON HIS SUCCESSES IN IRELAND.
TO purchase kingdoms, and to buy renown, Are arts peculiar to dissembling France; You, mighty monarch, nobler actions crown, And solid virtue does your name advance.
Your matchless courage with your prudence joins The glorious structure of your fame to raise; With its own light your dazzling glory shines, And into adoration turns our praise.
Had you by dull succession gain'd your crown (Cowards are monarchs by that title made), Part of your merit Chance would call her own, And half your virtues had been lost in shade.
But now your worth its just reward shall have: What trophies and what triumphs are your due! Who could so well a dying nation save, At once deserve a crown, and gain it too! ​You saw how near we were to ruin brought, You saw th' impetuous torrent rolling on; And timely on the coming danger thought, Which we could neither obviate nor shun.
Britannia stripp'd of her sole guard, the laws, Ready to fall Rome's bloody sacrifice; You straight stepp'd in, and from the monster's jaws Did bravely snatch the lovely, helpless prize.
Nor this is all; as glorious is the care To preserve conquests, as at first to gain: In this your virtue claims a double share, Which, what it bravely won, does well maintain.
Your arm has now your rightful title show'd, An arm on which all Europe's hopes depend, To which they look as to some guardian God, That must their doubtful liberty defend.
Amaz'd, thy action at the Boyne we see! When Schomberg started at the vast design: The boundless glory all redounds to thee, Th' impulse, the fight, th' event, were wholly thine.
The brave attempt does all our foes disarm; You need but now give orders and command, Your name shall the remaining work perform, And spare the labour of your conquering hand.
France does in vain her feeble arts apply, To interrupt the fortune of your course: Your influence does the vain attacks defy Of secret malice, or of open force. ​ Boldly we hence the brave commencement date Of glorious deeds, that must all tongues employ; William's the pledge and earnest given by fate Of England's glory, and her lasting joy.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Letter from William Richardson to Jonathan Swift - 5

WILLIAM RICHARDSON, ESQ., TO DR. SWIFT.
I WROTE this morning to Mrs. Whiteway a few lines in much hurry, and I write this to you in Guildhall, by alderman Barber's direction. Beside a letter from you to the society, whose address is in Mrs. Whiteway’s letter, he thinks a memorial or petition from Mr. Dunkin to the society will be of use; and if you write to Mr. Pope, the alderman thinks he will get one vote, which he can fix no way of obtaining but through Pope. I am ever, dear sir, your most obliged and most affectionate humble servant,
WILLIAM RICHARDSON.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Letter from William Richardson to Martha Whiteway - 1

FROM WILLIAM RICHARDSON, ESQ. TO MRS. WHITEWAY.
I AM indeed much ashamed that I have so many favours from you to acknowledge at one time. You may believe me when I assure you that my silence has not proceeded from want of respect and esteem for you. I would not put on the affectation of much business as an excuse to any body, much less to you; although the truth is, that I am hurried almost out of my life with the attendance and writing about things I have undertaken for some friends.
The dean's recommendation and yours, without any other consideration whatever, would induce me to do my utmost to serve Mr. McAulay, as I have told him by this post, when I thought I should not trouble you with a few lines. He will acquaint you with what I have done, by which you will see that I lost no time; and I have hopes to obtain the lord lieutenant's countenance for him.
I will endeavour to introduce Mr. Swift to the acquaintance of some persons before I leave this; whose countenance and friendship will at least give a young gentleman a good air —— his own merit entitles him to the esteem and regard of such as shall have the happiness to be acquainted with him: I am ​ much obliged to you for introducing me to him. I have only time to add my most hearty thanks for the same, and to assure you that any opportunity of expressing the esteem I have for the dean, which is the highest, and for you, will ever give me the greatest pleasure. I am, madam, your most obliged and most truly faithful servant,
WILLIAM RICHARDSON.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Letter from William Stewart to Jonathan Swift - 1

FROM LORD MOUNTJOY.
I SHALL, with great pleasure, bring in your petition to morrow, the house of lords not sitting until then; but I find there is a small mistake in point of form, which will be proper to be set right before the petition shall be presented.
You mention the bill as if it would certainly pass, and be transmitted into England; instead of which, I must beg the favour of you to say, that "there are heads of a bill depending now before your lordship's committee, in order to prevent," &c., &c., for until such time as it shall have gone through that, no one can declare the fate of it.
I should not be so impertinent as to pretend to direct you in this, but that I apprehend you did not know the progress the bill has taken; if you will get it writ over again, my servant shall wait to bring it to me, and I shall take care, as soon as the petition is received, to have a clause ready, in pursuance of it, to except your charity. I am, with great respect, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,
MOUNTJOY.
# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/On Gallstown House

ON GALLSTOWN HOUSE.
BY DR. DELANY.
'TIS so old, and so ugly, and yet so convenient, You're sometimes in pleasure, though often in pain in't. 'Tis so large you may lodge a few friends with ease in't, You may turn and stretch at your length if you please in't; 'Tis so little, the family live in a press in't, And poor lady Betty has scarce room to dress in't; ​'Tis so cold in the winter, you can't bear to lie in't, And so hot in the summer, you're ready to fry in't; 'Tis so brittle 'twould scarce bear the weight of a tun, Yet so staunch, that, it keeps out a great deal of sun; 'Tis so crazy, the weather with ease beats quite through it, And you're forced every year, in some part to renew it; 'Tis so ugly, so useful, so big, and so little, 'Tis so staunch, and so crazy, so strong, and so brittle, 'Tis at one time so hot, and another so cold, It is part of the new, and part of the old; It is just half a blessing, and just half a curse — I wish then, dear George, it were better or worse.
* ↑ The seat of George Rochfort, esq., father to the earl of Belvidere. Several pleasantries of this gentleman, Dr. Delany, and a groupe of their intimate friends, are to be found in different parts of this collection.
* ↑ See the dean's poetical epistle to this gentleman, vol. VII, page 150.
* ↑ Daughter of the earl of Drogheda, and married to George Rochfort, esq.
# The Willow Tree

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Willow Tree."
* 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.
* The Willow Tree, a Scottish chapbook (1816)
* "The Willow-Tree", a poem by Lewis Carroll
* "The Willow Tree", a poem by Thomas John Dibdin
# The Willow Tree (1816)

THE WILLOW TREE,
The Bay of Biscay O,
THE LAIRDIE,
Ye Mariners of England,
AND,
THE FATHER OF NANCY.
SOLD WHOLESALE BY J. FRASER & CO. PRINTERS, STIRLING.
* The Willow Tree
* The Bay of Biscay O
* The Wee Wee German Lairdie
* Ye Mariners of England
* The Father of Nancy
* Is There a Heart That Never Lov'd
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 heart which cannot know another

As rendered in Brontë Poems: Selections from the poetry of Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell Brontë (1915)
96
THE heart which cannot know another, Which will not learn to sympathize, In whom the voice of friend, or brother, Unheard, unechoed, sleeps or dies; Between whom, and the world around, Can stretch no life-uniting ties.