OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs/Now hope, now fear

NOW HOPE, NOW FEAR.
A Duet. Music composed by Braham.
Now hope, now fear, my bosom rending, Alternate bid cach other cease; Soon shall death, my terrors ending, Calm each transient thought to peace. Hark! a murmuring sound, repeating Every stifled sigh, I hear! What can set this bosom beating? Alas! 'tis mingled hope and fear.
Now they cease! this way retiring, And all is awful silence round. Ah! sure those notes, dear maid, were thine The eehoing sounds alone were mine. 'Tis her voice that meets my ear:-- Say, where art thou, whose voice I hear' Oh! quickly speak,-no longer roam,- To give thee liberty I come. Soft love, 'tis I; relief is near,-- Where art thou now? I'm here. This way advance, and you are free-- This way to light and liberty.
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 Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs/Oft in the stilly night

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT.
Words by Moore Music,—"March to the battle field."
Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me. The smiles, the tears, of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken, The eyes that shone, now dimmed and gone, The cheerful vow now broken. Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.
When I remember all The friends so linked together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather,— I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, whose garland's dead, And all but me departed. Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light of other days around me.
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 Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs/The bonnie wee wife

THE BONNIE WEE WIFE
A Ballad, sung by Madame Vestris, Mrs Ashe, and Miss Paton, at the Orator and Musical Festivals. Written by Burns.
She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing! This sweet wee wife o' mine.
I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I'll wear her, For fear, my jewel tine.
She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine.
The warld's wrack we share o't, The warstle and the care o't, Wi' her I'll blithely bear it, And think my lot divine.
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 Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs/The captive Knight

THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT.
Ballad. The Words by Mrs Hemans, the Music by her sister; and both fully dedicated to Sir Walter Scott.
'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound! And the Knight looked down from the Paynim's And a Christian host, in its pride and power, Through the pass beneath him wound. "Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice! be still! "I knew 'twas a note! And I see my brethren's lances gleam, And their pennons wave by the mountain stream, And their plumes to the glad wind float. "I am here with my heavy chain! And I look on a torrent sweeping by, And an eagle rushing to the sky, And a host to its battle plain. "Must I pine in my fetters here With the wild wave's foam, and the free bird's flight, And the tall spears glancing on my sight, And the trumpet in mine ear? Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice! be still! be still! "They are gone! they have all passed by! They in whose wars I had borne my part— They that I loved with a brother's heart They have left me here to die! Sound again, clarion! clarion, pour thy blast! Sound! for the captive's dream of hope is past."
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 Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs/She never blamed him

SHE NEVER BLAMED HIM.
Poetry by T. H. Baldy. The Music arranged to a Hindoostanee Melody by Henry R. Bishop.
She never blamed him, never, But reeeived him, when he eame, With a welcome kind as ever, And she tried to look the same; But vainly she dissembled, For whene'er she tried to smile,
A tear, unbidden, trembled In her blue eye all the while.
She knew that she was dying, And she dreaded not her doom; She never thought of sighing
O'er her beauty's blighted bloom; She knew her cheek was altered, And she knew her eye was dim; Her voiee, though, only faltered When she spoke of losing him.
Tis true that he had lured her From the isle where she was born, 'Tis true he had inured her
To the cold world's cruel scorn; But yet she never blamed him
For the anguish she had known, And though she seldom named him, Yet she thought of him alone.
She sighed when he caressed her,
For she knew that they must part; She spoke not when he pressed her
To his young and panting heart.-- The banners waved around her,
And she heard the bugle's sound-- They passed--and strangers found her
Cold and lifeless on the ground.
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 Singers' companion, a choice selection of fashionable songs/See the moon o'er cloudless Jura

SEE THE MOON O'ER CLOUDLESS JURA
Written by D. Weir, Greenock. Adapted to the celebrated Air of "Roussean's Dream."
See the moon o'er cloudless Jura Shining in the lake below; See the distant mountain towering Like a pyramid of snow. Secnes of grandeur-scenes of childhood- Seenes so dear to love and me! Let us roam by bower and wildwood, All is lovelier when with thee.
On Leman's breast the winds are sighing, All is silent in the grove, And the flowers with dew-drops glistening Sparkle like the eye of love. Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless; Blessed night to love and me!
Let us roam by bower and fountain,
All is lovelier when with thee.
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 Slippery Slope/Biographical Note

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
It is not proposed to write a lengthy biographical notice of the Author of the following pages, but it is perhaps desirable to give a sufficient sketch of his career to indicate the authority and experience which lie behind his words.
William Amias Bailward was born in the Somersetshire village of Horsington in June 1852, and was educated at Rugby School and Balliol College, Oxford. He underwent a full legal training, which was of much value to him in after-life, but after being called to the Bar and having gone once or twice on circuit, he decided to abandon the Law as a profession and spent some years in foreign travel, visiting Australia, New Zealand, India, and other British colonies and possessions.
On his return finally to England he settled down to live in London with a sister who became at that time the guiding influence in his life.
Soon afterwards (in 1887) he first became interested in the work of the Charity Organisation Society and their Honorary Secretary in Bethnal Green, the district which remained the principal field of his labours until his death in March 1918.
He was for the greater part of that time a Guardian, and for some years Chairman of the Board of Guardians of that Union, and considering the great differences which must have existed between his views and those of many of his colleagues and of the electorate it is a remarkable tribute to his personality and moderation that he should have been constantly elected. It was greatly due, no doubt, to his influence that Poor ​Law administration in Bethnal Green has formed an effective contrast with that of other East End Unions.
To the casual acquaintance he was known generally as a witty and agreeable companion and a good sportsman, in the best sense of the word, and only a few intimate friends were really cognisant of the great amount of time, labour, and research which he devoted to Poor Law and Charity Organisation work.
His chief interest, even in sport, always consisted in giving entertainment to his many friends and the younger members of his own family.
It is an indication of the confidence which was reposed in his judgment by all those with whom he was brought into contact, that at the time of his death he was a member of thirty-five Committees of various kinds, and had it not been for his extreme dislike of any kind of notoriety he might well have taken a leading part in political and civic life.
Amongst his papers was found a slip written shortly before his death, with the following quotation from Montaigne:—
"Je veux … que la mort me trouve plantant mes choux, mais nonchalant d'elle, et encore plus de mon jardin imparfait;"
and these essays are a small part of the fruit of that unfinished garden.
His last illness was probably due to his assiduous attendance at the Bethnal Green Appeal Tribunal during the winter of 1916-17 for long hours and in all weathers.
A. C. B.
1 Princes Mansions, Victoria Street, S.W. 1.
# The Slippery Slope/Preface

PREFACE
The accompanying volume contains the substance of various articles and papers covering a period of twenty-five years, during which the author has been engaged in poor law and charitable administration in London. Two or three of these have already appeared in pamphlet form. They have been written at various times and upon various occasions, and have no special connection, except that they deal with different aspects of the same subject. They therefore contain some repetitions and some references that have been rendered obsolete by subsequent legislation. But the author ventures to republish them much as they were written, in the hope that the fact that they are based upon the experience of twenty-five years of practical work in a poor district may commend them to the consideration of students of the most difficult problem of local government. They are not addressed to socialists, who at least have a definite social theory, but to those who appear to be halting between two opinions. The author is indebted to the Editor of the "Times" for permission to republish the criticism of the Minority Report.
W. A. B.
# The Secret Cave, or John Lees Adventure

A juvenile work written when Lovecraft was around eight or nine years old
“Now be good children” Said Mrs. Lee “While I am away & dont get into mischief”. Mr. & Mrs. Lee were going off for the day & To leave The Two children John 10 yrs old & Alice 2 yrs old “Yes” replied John
As Soon as The Elder Lees were away the younger Lees went down cellar & began to rummage among the rubbish little alice leaned against the wall watching John. As John was making a boat of barrel staves the Little girl gave a piercing cry as the bricks behind her crumbled away he rushed up to her & Lifted her out screaming loudly as soon as her screams subsided she said “the wall went away” John went up & saw that there was a passage he said to the little girl “lets come & see what this is” “Yes” she said the entered the place they could stand up it the passage was farther than they could see they John went back upstairs & went to the kitchen drawer & got 2 candles & some matches & then they went back to the cellar passage. the two once more entered there was plastering on the walls ceiling & floor nothing was visible but a box this was for a seat nevertheless they examined it & found it to contain nothing the walked on farther & pretty soon the plastering left off & they were in a cave Little alice was frightened at first but at her brothers assurance that it was “all right” she allayed her fears. soon they came to a small box which John took up & carried within pretty soon they came on a boat in it were two oars he dragged it with difficulty along with him soon they found the passage came to an abrupt stop he pulled the obstacle away & to his dismay water rushed in in torrents John was an expert swimmer & long breathede he had Just taken a breath so he tried to rise but with the box & his sister he found it quite impossible then he caught sight of the boat rising he grasped it. . . .
The next he knew he was on the surface clinging tightly to the body of his sister & the mysterious box he could not imagine how the water got in but a new peril menaced them if the water continued rising it would rise to the top suddenly a thought presented itself. he could shut off the water he speedily did this & lifting the now lifeless body of his sister into the boat he himself climed in & sailed down the passage it was gruesome & uncanny absolutely dark his candle being put out by the flood & a dead body lying near he did not gaze about him but rowed for his life when he did look up he was floating in his own cellar he quickly rushed up stairs with the body, to find his parents had come home He told them the story
The funeral of alice occupied so much time that John quite forgot about the box—but when they did open it they found it to be a solid gold chunk worth about $10,000 enough to pay for any thing but the death of his sister.
# The Philosophical Review/Volume 13

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_13.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XIII

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XIII.
Articles.
Page.
Discussions.
Book Reviews.
Summaries of Articles.
Notices of New Books.
Notes.
# The Philosophical Review/Volume 17

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_17.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XVII

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# The Philosophical Review/Volume 14

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_14.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XIV

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XIV.
Articles.
Page.
Discussion.
Reviews of Books.
Notices of New Books.
Summaries of Articles.
Notes.
# The Philosophical Review/Volume 16

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_16.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XVI

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# The Philosophical Review/Volume 10

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_10.djvu
The Philosophical Review
720 pages

## Volume X

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# The Philosophical Review/Volume 15

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_15.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XV

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XV.
Articles.
Page.
Discussions.
# The Philosophical Review/Volume 11

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_11.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XI

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XI.
ARTICLES.
Page.
DISCUSSIONS.
BOOK REVIEWS.
SUMMARIES OF ARTICLES.
Notices of New Books.
Notes.
# The Philosophical Review/Volume 12

Index page: Philosophical_Review_Volume_12.djvu
The Philosophical Review

## Volume XII

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XII.
Articles.
Page.
Book Reviews.
Summaries of Articles.
Notices of New Books.
Notes.
# The Soul Of A Century/Romance

ROMANCE
Angrily the King addressed her: “All my glory without blemish, My heroic heart and fervor I laid at your feet to trample; I bent low my back that never Bent before in dumb submission, Bent before you and your beauty, But in vain; And now, what happened? Your bright eyes, made to be worshipped, Eyes that barely seemed to see me When in awe I gazed upon them, Whither have your glances wandered? Full of tears and deep compassion, Full of love they shine, like starlight, Falling on a man unhonored, Without name or wealth or power, On him all your love was showered Like alms given to the paupers.”
To the King she thus gave answer: “Master, ’tis the truth you’ve spoken. Yes, I gave my love completely To this man who is unhonored. Man without a name or power. You may laugh or storm in anger Just as long my heart rejoices. In mocked humbleness, oh Master,
Was concealed your pride unconscious, And this trait so poorly covered, My own vanity had tempted. Then my pride to earth had crumbled, Fell to naught before his greatness That knew not own worth or measure. Sir, believe me, ’twas a prayer That had from his eyes descended Like a call from depths abysmal. He was captivating, sire, Far more so, than others, master. And my soul steeped deeply, fully, In his soul, where it shall linger Evermore in love unending.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Southern tunes

SOUTHERN TUNES
I am torn and tortured by love’s all consuming claims, Bum me and destroy me with your eye’s bright flames. Offer me as a hostage to your deeply heaving sighs, Pierce my heart, if need be, with your love’s sweet ties.
Your breath, a fragrant zephyr that in the springtime blows, Your breath is sweetly scented, your breath exhaustion knows. And my love that seeks to still your grief and lessen mine Bubbles over the goblet like a pearly foaming wine.
And before my passion’s cup I fully drain, In your heaving bosom hid I would remain, Weave around my neck your lustrous waving tresses, Cool my boiling blood in love’s sweet caresses.
Like a desert steed my passion paws its impatient feet, Would your breath destroy me with its scorching heat, And your arms embrace, my limply yielding form, Till I would feebly totter like an oak tree in a storm.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Preface

PREFACE
“The Soul Of A Century” contains English translations of the poetic works of representative Czech Poets, from the first decade of the 19th century to a corresponding milestone of the 20th century. The collection is by no means exhaustive, critical or even scholarly. The selections were made primarily on the basis of translatability, and their English readability was the final criterion of choice.
In the preparation of this volume the translator had in mind the need for familarizing the interested English reading public with a few rondom selections of Czech poetry of the last century. Wherever possible the selections are complete rather than excerpts. Most of the poems included appear for the first time, while some have appeared in port or completely in previous publications.
No attempt has been made to present a scholarly anthology and the interested reader is referred to an appended list of available English anthologies of Czechoslovak literature for further study of the various authors included.
If this volume serves to stimulate further interest in Czech poetry, the translator will feel well compensated for the efforts involved.
R. A. Ginsburg
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) between 1929 and 1977 (inclusive) without a copyright notice.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1987, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 36 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 Soul Of A Century/Puberty

PUBERTY
Too soon it sang to me of love’s mad wiles, Of wasted nights, of maidens’ warm caresses, Too soon its promising and tempting smiles Tired my body with extreme excesses.
Vainly I stretched my arms and yearned For remnants off the table laden low, Against my breast, where carnal passions burned, I only grasped the phantom’s foggy snow.
Oh, the endless nights of intermittent waking, Ere through the window creeps the morning light, When the body feels a thirst that knows no slaking, And bluntly bleeds in the dark enfolding night.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Siesta

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
SIESTA
The dreams of greyish blue awoke in the shadows of the snow Whose lustre fell asleep in the soft-tinged yellow shades. In the drifts of streaming light the air settled in sheets of hard chilled glow And froze the grating sound of the wind-wheels turning blades.
The peace of white-stretched lines spread over the sleeping plain Like a garb of undulating levels and lifeless forests of old, The birds in their flight traced a net across the azure skies in vain, And the breath of living men, froze not beneath the cold.
Only a Great Thought swept over the land like a floating cloud, It spoke with the play of shades, the dreams of light, the voices of soundless calm, With exerted strengths and a dominant sad melancholic shroud That breathes into the human soul from the snow’s comforting balm.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.