OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Times/1921/News/Sir John Macdonell's Estate

Source: The Times, Thursday, May 19, 1921; Issue 42724; pg. 13; col D — Wills and Bequests. Sir John Macdonell's Estate
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Wills and Bequests Sir John Macdonell's Estate
Sir John Macdonell, K.C.B., of Kensington Park-gardens, W., for many years a member of The Times staff, a Master of the Supreme Court from 1889 to 1920, and King's Remembrancer from 1912 to 1920, editor of the "Judicial Statistics" and of the Journal of Comparative Legislation, Quain Professor of Comparative Law at University College, London, an eminent jurist, who died on March 17, has left estate of the value of £34,220. The testator leaves everything to his wife, requesting her to give £70 to each servant who has been in his employ for at least two years at the time of his death.
This work was published in 1921 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 102 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Times/1921/Obituary/Frederick Wedmore

* related portals: Obituaries.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
Source: The Times, Monday, Feb 28, 1921; Issue 42656; pg. 13 — Sir Frederick Wedmore's Death. Author And Critic.
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Sir Frederick Wedmore's Death. Author and Critic.
Sir Frederick Wedmore, author and art critic, died on Friday at his residence, White Mill End, Sevenoaks.
Frederick Wedmore was the eldest son of Thomas Wedmore, J.P., of Druid Stoke, near Bristol, and he was born in Clifton in July 1844. He was educated at Lausanne and in Paris, and all his work in fiction and in criticism was full of the influence of France. As art critic and historian, he devoted himself specially to the art of France, from the 18th century to the later 19th, his choice and delicate taste finding here its most congenial matter. The same love of the choice and the exquisite early inclined him to the study of etching. He came just at the time when Whistler, Haden, and others, inspired by Méryon, were reviving in England the art of "painter-etching"; his championship of the young Society of Painters-Etchers through difficult periods won him the rare distinction of being chosen an Honorary Fellow of that body. But he knew much about many periods and styles of art. For 30 years he worked regularly as art critic of the Standard, and the charm of his writing was even more widely known than was the little dapper figure, with the elegant, inquisitive eyeglass familiar at all Press and private views.
His fiction, like his figure, was slight, but exquisite. The "Pastorals of France," "Orgens of Miradou," and other tales are very minutely and beautifully worked, in the best French fashion; and, if Wedmore's interest in the drama was too meticulous to be easily digested into his theatrical novel "Brenda Walks on, "his knowledge and memory of French and English plays and acting made his conversation on the drama well worth hearing. He had more energy than would be guessed from his appearance and manner, He lived much in the world, and "knew everybody." He lectured well and often, in America and England. He wrote pretty frequently in the Nineteeth Century.He edited art books, and (with the assistance of his daughter) an anthology of "Poems of the Love and Pride of England." He catalogued Whistler's etchings; he wrote on Balzac, and a very entertaining volume, full of delicate malice, on his own life and memories. In the New Year's Honours of 1912 he was given a knighthood.
Lady Wedmore, who is the youngest daughter of the late John Peele Clapham, J.P., of Wharfedale, is at present ill in Devonshire.
This work was published in 1921 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 102 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Trimmed Lamp (short story)

"The Trimmed Lamp" by O. Henry was first published in McClure's Magazine, vol. 27 no. 4 (August 1906).
* "The Trimmed Lamp" in McClure's Magazine, vol. 27 no. 4 (1906)
* "The Trimmed Lamp" in The Trimmed Lamp (1907)
# The Triple Fool

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
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry; But where's that wise man, that would not be I, If she would not deny? Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, Doth set and sing my pain; And, by delighting many, frees again Grief, which verse did restrain. To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, But not of such as pleases when 'tis read. Both are increasèd by such songs, For both their triumphs so are published, And I, which was two fools, do so grow three. Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Keats—A Sonnet

KEATS
By the pyramid of Caius Sestius, Unmarked for honour or remembrance save By a meek epitaph, there is a grave For sake of which, o'er oceans perilous, As to a shrine, uncounted pilgrims come; Each bringing tribute unto one who gave Life beauty,—the one thing man still must crave, Though worshiping from far, with passion dumb.
The Eternal City by the Tiber holds, In the broad view of Buonarotti's dome,— With all its treasure,—naught that is more dear Than the low mound that easefully enfolds The English poet who lies buried here By the pyramid outside the walls of Rome.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Last Night I Dreamed

LAST NIGHT I DREAMED
Last night I dreamed, mine enemy, That you were at my side, As in the days e'er coldness came Our spirits to divide.
You smiled again with cordial eyes And simple heart elate, As in the happy olden time That nothing knew of hate,
And I forgot, in converse glad, The bitterness since then, And nearer to my thought you seemed— Dearer—than other men;
For memory, with softened touch Of pity, that caressed, Made every kindness glow more bright,— And blotted out the rest.
Last night from dreams, mine enemy, I woke in tears, and knew The soul, apart from mortal strife, Has naught with hate to do.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Lullaby

LULLABY
Day is stealing down the West, Tender, drowsy sounds are heard; Closer now each downy bird Creeps 'neath mother-wings to rest. In the fading sky afar, Kindled by some angel hand, Twinkling comes a tiny star,— Baby's guide to Sleepy-Land.
Cooler, darker grows the air, Eerie shadows haunt the room; In the garden, through the gloom, 'Wildering bats and owlets fare; But the lambs and birdies seem Happy now at home to keep, And a darling little dream Smiles at baby in his sleep.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/No More, Dear Heart

NO MORE, DEAR HEART
No more, dear heart—no more I moan The loss of happiness, your gift alone, For quiet thoughts I keep, And in the lengthening, grief-subduing years, Have lost the trick and sweet distress of tears. I smile again—again, ah me! I sleep, And half believe my heart grown cold, Till other happy lovers I behold.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/In the Town a Wild Bird Singing

IN THE TOWN A WILD BIRD SINGING
"Hear me, Theresa, Theresa, Theresa!"
Hark! Do I dream? Nay, even now I heard The whitethroat's music, tremulous yet clear: The very plaint, O lonely bird, That often midst the greening woods hath stirred My heart; but never here!
This is the City! High above the street, Before my window singing in the dawn, By what imagination dost thou cheat Thy hope to utter melody so sweet, Far from thy groves withdrawn?
Thy tones transport me, wistful, to the North, Seeming to lay a touch upon my brow Cool as the balsam-laden airs that now Through pine-woods blow: they woo my spirit forth— Forth of the town—forth of myself. But thou?
Dost thou an exile wander from thy home Or art thou hast'ning thither? ​Through what beguilement dost thou friendless roam? And goest thou—ah, whither?
Day quickly fades, Night may refuse her star, Clouds may arise, and elemental strife,— Ah, hapless bird! what wanderlust of life Betrayed thy wings so far?
Full as my soul of tremulous desires, Thy voice I hear in supplication rise. "Theresa!" dost thou call? Unto the skies The plaint, adoring, holily aspires:— "Theresa!" Is it she keeps watch o'er thee?— Homeless—but free?
Wise minstrel! Thou dost well to call on her; No saint was ever lovelier. Her heart had room for such wide tenderness As his who "Little Sister" called the birds, And pity, deeper than all words, Taught her, like him, to bless.
Silent? Where art thou? Lo, the City wakes! Toil's round begins, and calm the world forsakes. Thou, too, art gone!—nor evermore shalt come Without my window here at dawn to sing. Adieu, strange guest! Theresa guide thy wing Safe to the sweet wild woods that are thy home!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Lines for a Fiftieth Anniversary

This poem was not included in Mrs. Coates' collected Poems (1916, in 2 vols.).
LINES FOR A FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY
Golden their days have been, for love is golden— Golden as sunshine warm with life, not cold; Lighting earth's pathway with the blessing olden That never groweth old.
It owns no Past; a help divine in sorrow, A strength to overmaster each annoy, Love holds the faithful promise of a morrow, Immortal in its joy!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Love is Passing

LOVE IS PASSING
Love is passing through the street. Love, imperishably sweet, On his silver-sandaled feet Draweth near.
Suppliant he came of yore,— Comes he now as conqueror? Will he, pausing at my door, Enter here?
Once his lips were ruby-red, And his wings like gold, outspread, And the roses crowned his head, As in story;
And, though these he now disguise, Ever a lost paradise In the azure of his eyes Keeps its glory.
Love is passing through the street— Love, imperishably sweet, And were death our way to meet, I would dare it.
​Come he suppliant, as before, Come he as a conqueror,— So he turn not from my door, I can bear it!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Mother Mary

MOTHER MARY
Methinks the Blesséd was content, her journey overpast, Amid the drowsy, wondering kine on lowly bed to lie: To dream in pensive thankfulness, and happy days forecast, While over her the Star of Hope waxed brighter in the sky.
And yet, methinks in Bethlehem her spirit had been lone But for the tender new-born joy that in her arms she bore,— Ay, even though with gifts of gold and many a precious stone Great kings had knelt with shepherd-folk about her stable door.
But every mortal mother's heart knows its Gethsemane— That lonelier spot whereto no star the light of hope may bring— Yet even in the darkest hour, amidst her agony, Each still remembers Bethlehem, and hears the angels sing.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/O Giorno Felice !

O GIORNO FELICE!
My store is spent; I am fain to borrow: Give me to drink of a vintage fine! Pour me a draught—a draught of To-morrow, Brimming and fresh from a rock-cool shrine: Nectar of earth, For the longing and dearth Of a heart still young, That waiteth and waiteth a song unsung!
Glad be the strain! In the cup pour no pain: Leave at the brim not a taste of sorrow! Spring would I sing! For the bird flies free, The sap is astir in the oldest tree, And the Maiden weaves, 'Mid a laughter of leaves, The bud and the blossom of joys to be!
Ay, Winter took all; But I heard the Spring call, And my heart, denied, With a rapturous shiver— Like that that makes eager the pulse of the river When something at last tells it Winter is past— ​Awoke at the sound of her voice, and replied. A libation to Spring!—ah, quickly! pour fast! She is there! She is here!—in the sky—on the sea— In the Morning-Land waiting my heart and me!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Love and the Child

LOVE AND THE CHILD
Love came into the world, and said: "With the tender infant on this bed Shall be my home; I will impart The winning graces to its heart That blessing in each pathway spread."
So—for Love crooned its lullabies— His own smile dawned within its eyes, And into its small being stole The laughing radiance of his soul, And all its eager sympathies.
Unconscious as the flowers that bless— A tiny flame of lovingness— To any palm it gave at once A dimpled hand, in quick response, Nor what "a stranger" meant might guess.
That to distrust is often well, It heard with smile ineffable. Then, on a morn, Love came to say: "Thou child of mine, come, come away, In Paradise to dwell!"
# The Unconquered Air

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Unconquered Air."
* 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.
* Coates, Florence Earle (1912), The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems.
* "The Unconquered Air", a poem by Coates, published in the above and elsewhere.
# The Trail of the Serpent

A contender for the first British detective novel
At all ⟨Booksellers and Bookstalls, price 2s. 6d. each, Cloth Gilt,⟩
⟨THE⟩
⟨AUTHOR'S AUTOGRAPH EDITION OF MISS BRADDON'S NOVELS.⟩
A⟨lso ready, price 2s. each, Picture Boards.⟩
* 1. Lady Audley's Secret.
* 2. Henry Dunbar.
* 3. Eleanor's Victory.
* 4. Aurora Floyd.
* 5. John Marchmont's Legacy.
* 6. The Doctor's Wife.
* 7. Only a Clod.
* 8. Sir Jasper's Tenant.
* 9. Trail of the Serpent.
* 10. Lady's Mile.
* 11. Lady Lisle.
* 12. Captain of the Vulture.
* 13. Birds of Prey.
* 14. Charlotte's Inheritance.
* 15. Rupert Godwin.
* 16. Run to Earth.
* 17. Dead Sea Fruit.
* 18. Ralph the Bailiff.
* 19. Fenton's Quest.
* 20. Lovels of Arden.
* 21. Robert Ainsleigh.
* 22. To the Bitter End.
* 23. Milly Darrell.
* 24. Strangers and Pilgrims.
* 25. Lucius Davoren.
* 26. ⟨Taken at the Flood.⟩
* 27. ⟨Lost for Love.⟩
* 28. ⟨A Strange World.⟩
* 29. ⟨Hostages to Fortune.⟩
* 30. ⟨Dead Men's Shoes.⟩
* 31. ⟨Joshua Haggard.⟩
* 32. ⟨Weavers and Weft.⟩
* 33. ⟨An Open Verdict.⟩
* 34. ⟨Vixen. ⟩
* 35. ⟨The Cloven Foot. ⟩
* 36. ⟨The Story of Barbara.⟩
* 37. ⟨Just As I Am.⟩
* 38. ⟨Asphodel.⟩
* 39. Mount Royal.
* 40. The Golden Calf.
* 41. Phantom Fortune.
* 42. Flower and Weed.
* 43. Ishmael.
* 44. Wyllard's Weird.
* 45. Under the Red Flag.
* 46. One Thing Needful.
* 47. Mohawks.
* 48. Like and Unlike.
* 49. The Fatal Three.
* 50. The Day Will Come.
51. One Life One Love.
"No one can be dull who has a Novel by Miss Braddon in hand. The most tiresome journey is beguiled, and the most wearisome illness is brightened by any one of her books."
London: SIMPKIN & CO, Limited.
the
TRAIL OF THE SERPENT
A Novel
by the author of
"lady audley's secret," "aurora floyd" "vixen," "ishmael," etc. etc.
"Poor race of men, said the pitying Spirit, Dearly ye pay for your primal fall; Some flowers of Eden ye yet inherit, But the trail of the Serpent is over them all."
Moore.
Stereotyped Edition
london: simpkin, marshall, hamilton, kent & co., limited stationers' hall court 1890. [All rights reserved.]
Now Ready at all Booksellers' and Bookstalls, Price 2s. 6d. each, Cloth gilt.
THE AUTHOR'S AUTOGRAPH EDITION OF MISS BRADDON'S NOVELS.
"No one can be dull who has a novel by Miss Braddon in hand. The most tiresome journey is beguiled, and the most wearisome illness is brightened, by any one of her books."
"Miss Braddon is the Queen of the circulating libraries."
The World.
london:
SIMPKIN & CO., Limited,
Stationers' Hall Court.
CONTENTS
Book the First A Respectable Young Man.
Book the Second A Clearance of All Scores.
Book the Third A Holy Institution.
Book the Fourth Napoleon the Great.
Book the Fifth The Dumb Detective.
Book the Sixth On the Track.
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 Unhappy couple/Jenny May

JENNY MAY.
WHen Phœbus firſt ſalutes the eaſt, and dew-drops deck each thorn, When ploughmen ſhake off dowry reſt, and hunters wind the horn: ​Then light as air I ſeek the ſhade, whence glides the ſilver Tay, And tune my pipe to that ſweet maid, whoſe name is Jenny May.
At noon, when ſultry Sol is found, to ſcorch the verdant plain; When nibling flocks are panting round, and ſeem to live in pain; Then ſhelter'd in the ſtraw thatch'd cot, I paſs the time away: The higheſt folk I envy not, give me but Jenny May.
When riding down the diſtant weſt, the god of light declines, By many varied ſtreaks confeſt, delightfully he ſhines; With nymphs and ſhepherds op the plain, I ſtill am blythe and gay; But yet my ſofteſt ſweeteſt ſtrain, muſt flow to Jenny May.
In ſpring, in ſummer, autumn too, in winter's furieſt rage, Days, hours, and months I'll ſtill purſue, my fancy to engage: For ev'ry moments ev'ry hour, and ev'ry paſſing day, Shall while kind Nature gives me pow'r, be true to Jenny May.
Printed by J.& M. ROBERTSON, Saltmarket, 1802.
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 Unhappy couple/Lord Howe's victory

LORD HOWE'S VICTORY.
COME all you gallant hearts of gold, A glorious tale I will unfold, Of Howe, who fought the French ſo bold, On board of the Queen Charlotte; The firſt of June this fight began, And gallant Howe he led the van; Our ſhot did play ſo bor that day, Monſieurs they ſwore they would not ſtay, In vain they ſtrove to run away, For Howe took care they ſhould not.
The Charlotte, with Lord Howe therein, This fierce encounter did begin, So bravely threw their broadſides in, Againſt the French Commander! Who found the fight ſo hot that day, That he could not withſtand the fray, So from the action bore away, And ſwore he would no longer ſtay, For he was no Salamander.
Seven ſhips fell in our hands that day, So crippled could not get away, Like logs they on the ſea did ly, So warm, was their reception: ​⟨The⟩ L'Juſt and Sans Parielle, ⟨The⟩ America and bold Achille, ⟨They⟩ were ſo maul'd they could not ſail, Till mann'd by Britiſh ſailors.
⟨The⟩ Northumberland and Impeteaux, ⟨Were⟩ happy to be ta'en in tow, ⟨The⟩ Vengeure ſhe went down below, To ſhun our Britiſh valour; ⟨Two⟩ of them carried eighty guns, (illegible text)ve ſeventy-fours, and ninety guns, ⟨huzza!⟩ huzza! their admiral runs, He could get no redemption.
⟨Brave⟩ Bower, Paſley, and Captain Hutt, ⟨Each⟩ loft a leg, and ſorely hurt; ⟨But⟩ life or death they valu'd not. When called by their country; ⟨Brave⟩ Montague was kill'd that day, (illegible text)ill while their ſhot did hotly play; ⟨We⟩ gave three cheers with loud huzza, ⟨Theſe⟩ French dogs could not run away, We had ſo bravely maul'd them.
⟨Of⟩ French ſhips there were twenty-ſix, ⟨When⟩ firſt upon them we did fix, ⟨We⟩ valu'd not their Galic tricks, Tho' we'd but twenty-five, Sir; (illegible text)r, like true Britiſh Heroes bold, ⟨Who⟩ value honour more than gold, ⟨And⟩ always ſcorn to be controul'd, ⟨Our⟩ courage has been try'd of old, Succeſs to England's forces.
​Now ſince theſe prizes are brought in, In honour of Great George our King, In praiſe of Lord Howe let us ſing, And every gallant Tar, Sir; For they will always win the day And drive the boaſting French away, To face our guns they durſt not ſtay, So give three cheers with a loud huzza, Drink ſucceſs to England's forces.
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 Unhappy couple/The Unhappy couple

THE UNHAPPY COUPLE.
YOU lovers all pray give attention, to thoſe few lines which I am told, It's of two lovers blaſted in their glory, all for the ſake of curſed gold.
'Twas known I was courted by many, both Lords and Knights that to me came, But I could never fancy any ſave honeſt John, my Father's groom.
My love is both tall and handſome, he is well ſhap'd in every limb; Could I but obtain the King's ranſom, I ne'er wou'd fancy any but him.
'Twas near the famous town of Reading, it was the place where we were join'd, And there in private we ſtole a wedding, which prov'd to us the moſt unkind.
We had no friends for to attend us, but Nelly who was my waiting maid; We then jointly did invite her, this artful girl our love betray'd.
Then Nelly wrote a private letter, to let my cruel Father know, Of the place where we were joined; which prov'd our fatal overthrow.
​We'd not ſpent many hours alone, before my cruel Father came; And in a paſſion ſtraight be flew, calling my husband John by name.
O! then he caſt him into priſon; with chains and fetters bound him faſt, And by the law be was oblig'd to ſuffer death then at the laſt.
Then it was my Father's pleaſure, to place me where my lore did die; For to behold his execution, the more me for to terrify.
But when I ſaw my lover coming, ſurrounded to the gallows-tree, Then my poor heart that was within me, ſeem'd to die as well as he.
But when my ſenſes I recover'd, the execution for to ſee; This I ſaid my friends have acted, well may I ſay they've ruin'd me.
Now let this my lamentation, to old and young both far and near, And from the higheſt reputation, in love don't croſs your children dear.
Leſt it at laſt may prove their ruin, as my dear parents they ⟨have⟩ done, Wit and beauty is ſo engaging love is a (illegible text) ⟨no⟩ one can ſhun.
​And now this Lady's gone diſtracted, and unto bedlam ſhe is thrown; For the ſake of her deareſt Johnny, both day and night ſhe's making moan.
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 Unhappy couple

THE
Unhappy Couple.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
LORD HOWE'S VICTORY.
The LASS of HUMBER-SIDE.
JENNY MAY.
GLASGOW. PRINTED BY J. & M. ROBERTSON, Saltmarket, 1802.
* The Unhappy couple
* Lord Howe's victory
* The lass of Humber-side
* Jenny May
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 Sundhya, or, the Daily Prayers of the Brahmins/Plate 15

PLATE 15.
POOJA OF VISHNOO—POURING WATER UPON THE SALIGRAM.
The Saligram is a small red stone, a kind of Ammonite, found in the River Gunduck; and is held sacred by the Hindoos, and worshipped as an Idol. According to the Poorans, it is dedicated to Vishnoo: it is kept in a small box of any white metal the worshipper may have the means of procuring: iron alone is excluded. The Artee, Dhoopdanee, Thalee, Ghunta, Abkhora, Sumputtee, Kuttoree, red and yellow sandal-flowers, toolsee, betel-leaves, sooparee, areka-nut, jeneo, a piece of cloth to cover the Saligram, sweetmeats, and the shunk, or conch shell, are all necessary in this worship. From this deity the votary supplicates never to be born again in this world. This sign is worn, on the forehead between the eyebrow, and is put on in the Pooja of Vishnoo: it is done with the mud of the sacred stream: many draw it on the breast and arms also. The necklace is of toolsee-seeds.
Translation from the Sanskrit Verses in the Pooja of Vishnoo.
saligram, the type of vishnoo.
Invocation to the Deity.
PLATE 15
POOJAH OF VISHNOO pouring water on the saligram
Day & Son, lith$^{rs}$. to the Queen.