OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Biographical Sketches of Dekkan Poets/Nagogi Bhat

NAGOGI BHATT.
This poet was also a Maharatta bramin, and born in the fifteenth century of Salivahana. At an early age he studied the Vedas, and when arrived at maturity engaged himself as officiating priest to people of the first class; by this employment, however, be gained a very scanty subsistence, and his poverty made him despised. He consequently felt disgusted, and giving up his vocation, entered as a student, the college at Vaki, which is esteemed a very holy place by the Hindus, as it is situated at the source of the river Krishna. At this place he studied all the fine arts and sciences, especially poetry. When he was forty-five years of age, he visited Benares, where he principally confined his attention to Grammar and diligently perused the book written by his countryman Bhattogi Dekshat, and made an ample commentary on it: he wrote also a work which he called Manorama, which was an exposition on the text before-named, it contained about seven hundred verses, and was much used by the Students at Mythali. ​ After he was fifty-five years old, he studied the Muntra Sastra, or fonnula of various prayers to Gods and Goddesses, and about this time he wrote a commentary on the Supta Sapti, or Chundi Pat, which is a chapter of the Marcandaya Purana. He died at Benares in the sixty-second year of his age, and it is supposed that severe disappointments in a great measure hastened his dissolution. The foregoing account of Nagogi Bhatt is taken from traditional records, preserved in the college of Nadya.
# Canzoniere/Poem XVII

SONNET Piovonmi amare lagrime dal viso
HIS STATE WHEN LAURA IS PRESENT, AND WHEN SHE DEPARTS.
 Down my cheeks bitter tears incessant rain,  And my heart struggles with convulsive sighs,  When, Laura, upon you I turn my eyes,  For whom the world's allurements I disdain,  But when I see that gentle smile again,  That modest, sweet, and tender smile, arise,  It pours on every sense a blest surprise;  Lost in delight is all my torturing pain.  Too soon this heavenly transport sinks and dies:  When all thy soothing charms my fate removes  At thy departure from my ravish'd view.  To that sole refuge its firm faith approves  My spirit from my ravish'd bosom flies,  And wing'd with fond remembrance follows you.
 CAPEL LOFFT.
 Tears, bitter tears adown my pale cheek rain,  Bursts from mine anguish'd breast a storm of sighs,  Whene'er on you I turn my passionate eyes,  For whom alone this bright world I disdain.  True! to my ardent wishes and old pain  That mild sweet smile a peaceful balm supplies,  Rescues me from the martyr fire that tries,  Rapt and intent on you whilst I remain;  Thus in your presence--but my spirits freeze  When, ushering with fond acts a warm adieu,  My fatal stars from life's quench'd heaven decay.  My soul released at last with Love's apt keys  But issues from my heart to follow you,  Nor tears itself without much thought away.
 MACGREGOR.
# Canzoniere/Poem XIV

BALLATA Occhi miei lassi, mentre ch' io vi giro
HE INVITES HIS EYES TO FEAST THEMSELVES ON LAURA.
 My wearied eyes! while looking thus  On that fair fatal face to us,  Be wise, be brief, for--hence my sighs--  Already Love our bliss denies.  Death only can the amorous track  Shut from my thoughts which leads them back  To the sweet port of all their weal;  But lesser objects may conceal  Our light from you, that meaner far  In virtue and perfection are.  Wherefore, poor eyes! ere yet appears,  Already nigh, the time of tears,  Now, after long privation past,  Look, and some comfort take at last.
 MACGREGOR.
# Canzoniere/Poem XX

SONNET
_Vergognando talor ch' ancor si taccia._
THE PRAISES OF LAURA TRANSCEND HIS POETIC POWERS.
 Ashamed sometimes thy beauties should remain  As yet unsung, sweet lady, in my rhyme;  When first I saw thee I recall the time,  Pleasing as none shall ever please again.  But no fit polish can my verse attain,  Not mine is strength to try the task sublime:  My genius, measuring its power to climb,  From such attempt doth prudently refrain.  Full oft I oped my lips to chant thy name;  Then in mid utterance the lay was lost:  But say what muse can dare so bold a flight?  Full oft I strove in measure to indite;  But ah, the pen, the hand, the vein I boast,  At once were vanquish'd by the mighty theme!
 NOTT.
 Ashamed at times that I am silent, yet,  Lady, though your rare beauties prompt my rhyme,  When first I saw thee I recall the time  Such as again no other can be met.  But, with such burthen on my shoulders set.  My mind, its frailty feeling, cannot climb,  And shrinks alike from polish'd and sublime,  While my vain utterance frozen terrors let.  Often already have I sought to sing,  But midway in my breast the voice was stay'd,  For ah! so high what praise may ever spring?  And oft have I the tender verse essay'd,  But still in vain; pen, hand, and intellect  In the first effort conquer'd are and check'd.
 MACGREGOR.
# Canzoniere/Poem XIX

SONNET Son animali al mondo di si altera
HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A MOTH.
 Creatures there are in life of such keen sight  That no defence they need from noonday sun,  And others dazzled by excess of light  Who issue not abroad till day is done,  And, with weak fondness, some because 'tis bright,  Who in the death-flame for enjoyment run,  Thus proving theirs a different virtue quite--  Alas! of this last kind myself am one;  For, of this fair the splendour to regard,  I am but weak and ill--against late hours  And darkness gath'ring round--myself to ward.  Wherefore, with tearful eyes of failing powers,  My destiny condemns me still to turn  Where following faster I but fiercer burn.
 MACGREGOR.
# Canzoniere/Poem XVI

SONNET _Movesi 'l vecchierel canuto e bianco._
HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A PILGRIM.
 The palmer bent, with locks of silver gray,  Quits the sweet spot where he has pass'd his years,  Quits his poor family, whose anxious fears  Paint the loved father fainting on his way;  And trembling, on his aged limbs slow borne,  In these last days that close his earthly course,  He, in his soul's strong purpose, finds new force,  Though weak with age, though by long travel worn:  Thus reaching Rome, led on by pious love,  He seeks the image of that Saviour Lord  Whom soon he hopes to meet in bliss above:  So, oft in other forms I seek to trace  Some charm, that to my heart may yet afford  A faint resemblance of thy matchless grace.
 DACRE.
 As parts the aged pilgrim, worn and gray,  From the dear spot his life where he had spent,  From his poor family by sorrow rent,  Whose love still fears him fainting in decay:  Thence dragging heavily, in life's last day,  His suffering frame, on pious journey bent,  Pricking with earnest prayers his good intent,  Though bow'd with years, and weary with the way,  He reaches Rome, still following his desire  The likeness of his Lord on earth to see,  Whom yet he hopes in heaven above to meet;  So I, too, seek, nor in the fond quest tire,  Lady, in other fair if aught there be  That faintly may recall thy beauties sweet.
 MACGREGOR.
# Canzoniere/Poem XXI

SONNET
_Mille fiate, o dolce mia guerrera._
HIS HEART, REJECTED BY LAURA, WILL PERISH, UNLESS SHE RELENT.
 A thousand times, sweet warrior, have I tried,  Proffering my heart to thee, some peace to gain  From those bright eyes, but still, alas! in vain,  To such low level stoops not thy chaste pride.  If others seek the love thus thrown aside,  Vain were their hopes and labours to obtain;  The heart thou spurnest I alike disdain,  To thee displeasing, 'tis by me denied.  But if, discarded thus, it find not thee  Its joyless exile willing to befriend,  Alone, untaught at others' will to wend,  Soon from life's weary burden will it flee.  How heavy then the guilt to both, but more  To thee, for thee it did the most adore.
 MACGREGOR.
 A thousand times, sweet warrior, to obtain  Peace with those beauteous eyes I've vainly tried,  Proffering my heart; but with that lofty pride  To bend your looks so lowly you refrain:  Expects a stranger fair that heart to gain,  In frail, fallacious hopes will she confide:  It never more to me can be allied;  Since what you scorn, dear lady, I disdain.  In its sad exile if no aid you lend  Banish'd by me; and it can neither stay  Alone, nor yet another's call obey;  Its vital course must hasten to its end:  Ah me, how guilty then we both should prove,  But guilty you the most, for you it most doth love.
 NOTT.
# Canzoniere/Poem XV

SONNET Io mi rivolgo indietro a ciascun passo
ON QUITTING LAURA.
 With weary frame which painfully I bear,  I look behind me at each onward pace,  And then take comfort from your native air,  Which following fans my melancholy face;  The far way, my frail life, the cherish'd fair  Whom thus I leave, as then my thoughts retrace,  I fix my feet in silent pale despair,  And on the earth my tearful eyes abase.  At times a doubt, too, rises on my woes,  "How ever can this weak and wasted frame  Live from life's spirit and one source afar?"  Love's answer soon the truth forgotten shows--  "This high pure privilege true lovers claim,  Who from mere human feelings franchised are!"
 MACGREGOR.
 I look behind each step I onward trace,  Scarce able to support my wearied frame,  Ah, wretched me! I pantingly exclaim,  And from her atmosphere new strength embrace;  I think on her I leave--my heart's best grace--  My lengthen'd journey--life's capricious flame--  I pause in withering fear, with purpose tame,  Whilst down my cheek tears quick each other chase.  My doubting heart thus questions in my grief:  "Whence comes it that existence thou canst know  When from thy spirit thou dost dwell entire?"  Love, holy Love, my heart then answers brief:  "Such privilege I do on all bestow  Who feed my flame with nought of earthly fire!"
 WOLLASTON.
# Canzoniere/Poem XVIII

SONNET Quand' io son tutto volto in quella parte
HE FLIES, BUT PASSION PURSUES HIM.
 When I reflect and turn me to that part  Whence my sweet lady beam'd in purest light,  And in my inmost thought remains that light  Which burns me and consumes in every part,  I, who yet dread lest from my heart it part  And see at hand the end of this my light,  Go lonely, like a man deprived of light,  Ignorant where to go; whence to depart.  Thus flee I from the stroke which lays me dead,  Yet flee not with such speed but that desire  Follows, companion of my flight alone.  Silent I go:--but these my words, though dead,  Others would cause to weep--this I desire,  That I may weep and waste myself alone.
 CAPEL LOFFT.
 When all my mind I turn to the one part  Where sheds my lady's face its beauteous light,  And lingers in my loving thought the light  That burns and racks within me ev'ry part,  I from my heart who fear that it may part,  And see the near end of my single light,  Go, as a blind man, groping without light,  Who knows not where yet presses to depart.  Thus from the blows which ever wish me dead  I flee, but not so swiftly that desire  Ceases to come, as is its wont, with me.  Silent I move: for accents of the dead  Would melt the general age: and I desire  That sighs and tears should only fall from me.
 MACGREGOR.
# The Heart of England/Chapter 44

CHAPTER XLIV
THE MARSH
The sun has gone down. Except on one hand, the immense empty marshland expands to the sea, and where it mingles with the grey water would be uncertain, but for the clamour of the wading birds and the gleam, now and then, of a white wing. The low bent thorns, inland, now take on a strange humanity, as of men who have ventured out into the solitude and pitched their tents there and none has followed them; they are bent in alarmed and hurrying attitudes away from the sea, but cannot leave it. The sea rises steeply up like a vast ploughed field to an uncertain sky of the same hue. All that greyness takes hold upon the mind like autumn rain and lures it to we know not what desperate carelessness; and the siren, that sweet evil of the sea, chants such dissolving melodies as this:—
But at one hand lies the first house in the world, a little ark of grey stone, pierced by windows behind which a velvet darkness weaves a spell and by a gloomy doorway; knock there and at once you will be barricaded again against the annihilating sea and night. All about it a trim garden of white and gold and dying red sends up a thin tower of scent that stands bravely in the salt wind. A tower!—at such an hour, when the casements of all the senses are opened wide upon eternity, this perfume not only satisfies the desiring and aspiring sense, but, with all its unsearched, undiscovered powers, builds for us here upon the shore a specular tower and, more, a palace lovely and shadowy, where the mind roves slowly and at ease, saluting vaguely apprehended shapes, finding now long lost memories of men and things which time has locked against a thousand keys, and now bold hopes and unexpected consolations. Content herself lurks here and many a pleasant ghost that seems immortal because it has died many times, and they may be enjoyed, until suddenly the night wind, without mercy, overturns the tower and desolates the palace and leaves us forsaken. Yonder the ​lighthouse flashes. The ships go out with wings as of a moth that cannot leave its chrysalis behind. The church bells moan; the sea birds whimper and shriek, and the road that goes on so long as we can walk lengthens out along the marsh and up the hill.
# The Heart of England/Chapter 45

CHAPTER XLV
ONE SAIL AT SEA
This is a simple world. On either hand the shore sweeps out in a long curve and ends in a perpendicular, ash-coloured cliff, carving the misty air as with a hatchet-stroke. The shore is of tawny, terraced sand, like hammered metal from the prints of the retreating waves; and here and there a group of wildly carved and tragic stones—unde homines nati, durum genus—such as must have been those stones from which Deucalion made the stony race of men to arise. Up over the sand, and among these stones the water slides in tracery like May blossom or silver mail. A little way out, the long wave lifts itself up laboriously into a shadowy cliff, nods proudly and crumbles, vain and swift, into a thousand sparks of foam. Far out the desolate, ridgy leagues vibrate and murmur with an unintelligible voice, not less intelligible than when one man says, "I believe," or another man, "I love," or another, "I am your friend." Almost at the horizon a sharp white sail sways, invisibly controlled. In a minute it does not move; in half-an-hour it has moved. It fascinates and becomes the image of the watcher's hopes, as when in some tranquil grief we wait, with faint curiosity and sad foretelling, to see how our plans will travel, smiling a little even when they stray or stop, because we have ​foretold it. Will the sail sink? Will it take wing into the sky? Will it go straight and far, and overcome and celebrate its success? But it only fades away, and presently another is there unasked, yet not surprising, and it also fades away, and the night has come, and still the sea speaks with tongues. In the moonlight one strange flower glistens, white as a campanula, like a sweet-pea in shape—the bleached thigh-bone of a rat—and we forget the rest.
# The Heart of Europe

* related portals: Czech lands, Modern speeches.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
THE HEART OF EUROPE · CH. PERGLER
The Cathedral of Saint Vitus at Prague, founded in the tenth century, completed in the year 1384
THE HEART OF EUROPEAN ADDRESS DELIVERED BY CHARLES PERGLER IN WASHINGTON, DECEMBER 11, 1916, AT A CONFERENCE OF OPPRESSED OR DEPENDENT NATIONALITIES. WITH A FOREWORD BY PROFESSOR ALOIS F. KOVARIK, Ph.D., D.Sc.,YALE UNIVERSITY
PUBLISHED BY THE BOHEMIAN (CZECH) NATIONAL ALLIANCE, AT NUMBER 3639 WEST 26th STREET, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
* Foreword
* Chapter 1
* Chapter 2
* Chapter 3
* Chapter 4
* Chapter 5
​This volume, with drawings by Fred. T. Chapman and J. C.Vondrous, was designed by Vojtech Preissig, and printed at The Merrymount Press, Boston, 1917
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 1983, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 40 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 Heart of England/Chapter 42

CHAPTER XLII
FISHING BOATS
The tide moves the river northward, towards me, under the bridge on which I stand. On both sides it is lined for a little way by houses: on the east in a flat, straight front, on the west in irregular rocky masses. Those on the east are coldly stained with light from the western sky; those opposite are vaguely shadowed and have an airiness and gloom—not a light yet appearing—as of the other side of Lethe. The river is of noble breadth.
Against the eastern houses rise up the masses of seven fishing boats in a row, with only such movement as makes the shadow run into the brown and gold, or the gold and brown into the shadow of the sails slowly, like the unfolding of poppies: and under their sides the shadows are profound as if they trailed black velvet mantles that hid the water. For, away from the boats, the unrippled surface of the motionlessly gliding river is of that lugubrious silver that seems to be, not water, but some trick of light upon mere air, such as is seen above summer meadows in the heat.
And over all is bent a pale, soft, empurpled sky, and in it a crescent moon.
Up the river came two fishing boats, sleeping, their motion the only proof of the tide—no man visible on ​board—no voices—and their sails of a colour as if they had been steeped in the early hues of the now vanished sunset, and yet in their folds so dark that they seem to be bringing with them the night as a cargo from those cloudy black woods in the south. Beyond the large curve of those woods the shining horn of the river reaches the unseen sea. The spirit of the sea comes up on the broad silent water.
The two small, solemn boats still glide in sleep; the others dream at the quay.
Southward, the dark wood sends out the narcotic night as a gift over the land, sowing the seeds of it from the wings of the slow sea birds, from the two incoming boats, silently; and now they have fallen upon good soil in the seven boats on the quay, in the masses of houses, in the arches of the bridge and in the hearts of men, and all things drink oblivion. As I turn away there is a sound of shrill, passionless voices that may be the souls of the oblivious travelling to content somewhere in the rich purple night.
# Castelvines y Monteses

English-language translations of Castelvines y Monteses include:
* Romeo and Juliet, a Comedy, translated by Anonymous, 1770
* Castelvines y Monteses, translated by F. W. Cosens, 1869
# Castelvines y Monteses (Cosens)

CASTELVINES Y MONTESES.
150 Copies printed.
No. 49
CASTELVINES Y MONTESES.
TRAGI-COMEDIA.
BY FREY LOPE FELIX DE VEGA CARPIO.
TRANSLATED BY F. W. COSENS.
LONDON:
PRINTED AT THE CHISWICK PRESS.
FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION.
1869.
ERRATA.
At foot of page 29, for "here the MS. is illegible," read "some lines are wanting."
At page 33, line 13, for "now" read "not."
* Introduction
* Cast
* Act I
** Scene I
** Scene II
** Scene III
** Scene IV
* Act II
** Scene I
** Scene II
** Scene III
* Act III
** Scene I
** Scene II
** Scene III
** Scene IV
** Scene V
* CHISWICK PRESS:—PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
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 Gold-Gated West/The Wizard Owl

THE WIZARD OWL
A New Year's Story in Rhyme
# The Gold Bat

To THAT PRINCE OF SLACKERS, HERBERT WESTBROOK

## CONTENTS

* Chapter 1. THE FIFTEENTH PLACE
* Chapter 2. THE GOLD BAT
* Chapter 3. THE MAYOR’S STATUE
* Chapter 4. THE LEAGUE’S WARNING
* Chapter 5. MILL RECEIVES VISITORS
* Chapter 6. TREVOR REMAINS FIRM
* Chapter 7. “WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE”
* Chapter 8. O’HARA ON THE TRACK
* Chapter 9. MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS
* Chapter 10. BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS
* Chapter 11. THE HOUSE-MATCHES
* Chapter 12. NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT
* Chapter 13. VICTIM NUMBER THREE
* Chapter 14. THE WHITE FIGURE
* Chapter 15. A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE
* Chapter 16. THE RIPTON MATCH
* Chapter 17. THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT
* Chapter 18. O’HARA EXCELS HIMSELF
* Chapter 19. THE MAYOR’S VISIT
* Chapter 20. THE FINDING OF THE BAT
* Chapter 21. THE LEAGUE REVEALED
* Chapter 22. A DRESS REHEARSAL
* Chapter 23. WHAT RENFORD SAW
* Chapter 24. CONCLUSION
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
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Goa

​Goa.— A sub-division of Kudubis, who are said to have emigrated from Goa to South Canara.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Goddali

​Goddali (spade or axe). — An exogamous sept of Oddē and Panta Reddi.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Gomma

​Gomma. — Recorded by the Rev. J. Cain as the name for Kōyis who live near the banks of the Godāvari river. Villages on the banks thereof are called gommu ūllu.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Gidda

​Gidda (vulture). — A sept of Poroja.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Ghāsi

​Ghāsi. — See Haddi.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Goli

​Goli (Portulaca oleracea: a pot-herb). — An exogamous sept of Gauda.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Gikkili

​Gikkili (rattle). — A gōtra of Kurni.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Giri Rāzu

​Giri Rāzu. — A contraction of Puragiri Rāzu or Puragiri Kshatriya, by which names some Perikes style themselves.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Gollāri

​Gollāri (monkey). — An exogamous sept of Gadaba.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chātla

​Chātla (winnow). — An exogamous sept of Mādiga. Chātla Dhompti occurs as a sub-division of Mādigas,who, at marriages, place the offering of food, etc.(dhompti), in a winnow.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chāpa

​Chāpa (mat).—An exogamous sept of Bōya.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chunam

​Chunam (lime). — A sub-division of Toreyas, who are manufacturers of lime. Chunam, made from calcined ​shells, limestone, etc., is largely used for building purposes, and the chunam plaster of Madras has been long celebrated for its marble-like polish. Chunam is also chewed with betel.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chuditiya

​Chuditiya. — See Kevuto.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chuvano

​Chuvano.—— Recorded, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as a small Oriya cultivating caste, supposed to be of Kshatriya parentage.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chākala

​Chākala.— See Tsākala.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chārōdi

​Chārōdi.— The Chārōdis have been described *as " Canarese carpenters corresponding to the Konkani Cheptēgāras (or Chaptēgāras), and there is very little difference in the customs and manners of the two castes, except that the former employ Shivalli and Konkanashta Brāhmans instead of Karādis. Their title is Naika." In the Madras Census Report, 1901, Mēsta is returned as a Konkani-speaking sub-caste of Chārōdi.
# Castes and Tribes of Southern India/Chondi

​Chondi. — See Sondi.
# The Indian Biographical Dictionary (1915)/Chattarji, Purnananda

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​Chattarji, Purnananda, B. (Cal), D.Sc. (Edin), Rai Bahadur; (1908), Inspector of Schools, Rajshahi Division; entered Government service in the Education Department. Address; Jalpaiguri, Bengal.