OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences/Chorus Novae Jerusalem

Chorus Novæ Jerusalem
This Paschal Hymn, the composition of S. Fulbert of Chartres, is not common in continental Breviaries, but was adopted in our own: where it occurs in the First Vespers of Low Sunday.
Ye Choirs of New Jerusalem!
To sweet new strains attune your theme;
The while we keep, from care releas'd,
With sober joy our Paschal Feast:
When Christ, Who spake the Dragon's doom,
Rose, Victor-Lion, from the Tomb:
That while with living voice He cries,
The dead of other years might rise.
Engorg'd in former years, their prey
Must Death and Hell restore to-day: And many a captive soul, set free,
With Jesus leaves captivity.
​Right gloriously He triumphs now,
Worthy to Whom should all things bow;
And, joining heaven and earth again,
Links in one commonweal the twain.
And we, as these His deeds we sing,
His suppliant soldiers, pray our King,
That in His Palace, bright and vast,
We may keep watch and ward at last.
Long as unending ages run,
To God the Father laud be done;
To God the Son our equal praise,
And God the Holy Ghost, we raise.
# Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences/Coelos ascendit hodie

Cœlos ascendit hodie.
To-day above the sky He soared, Alleluia. The King of Glory, Christ the Lord. Alleluia.
He sitteth on the Father's Hand, Alleluia. And ruleth sky and sea and land. Alleluia.
Now all things have their end foretold, Alleluia. In holy David's song of old: Alleluia.
My Lord is seated with the Lord, Alleluia. Upon the Throne of God adored. Alleluia.
In this great triumph of our King, Alleluia. To God on high all praise we bring. Alleluia.
To Him all thanks and laud give we, Alleluia. The Ever-Blessed Trinity. Alleluia.
# Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences/Cantemus Cuncti

Cantemus Cuncti
THE ALLELUIATIC SEQUENCE.
We shall have another occasion to speak of the "Deposition of Alleluia" at Septuagesima, for which this famous Sequence was written by Godescalcus.
It was first translated by me for the Hymnal Noted,—copied thence into the Sarum Hymnal, Hymns Ancient and Modern, and Chope's Hymns,—and, miserably inferior as it is to the original, seems thus to have obtained great popularity. But, most unhappily, those hymnals ignored the glorious melody, contemporaneous with the Sequence. There, for the first time since the words were written, they were, in the accompanying melodies, cramped, tortured, tamed down into a chant, the very kind of music for which the original sense and the English words are least adapted. It is because Mr. Troyte was the author of a chant which, to anyone who has heard the original melody, is utterly destructive of the whole prose, that the "Alleluiatic Sequence" is now sometimes called "Troyte's Chant."
If it be said that the original melody is difficult, I can only reply, that I have frequently heard it sung by a choir of children of ages varying from four to fourteen; and never more prettily than when, without any accompaniment at all, in the open fields—the very ​small ones joining in for the greater part, with the whole of their little energy.
1. The strain upraise of joy and praise, Alleluia.
2. To the glory of their King
Shall the ransom'd people sing Alleluia.
3. And the Choirs that dwell on high
Shall re-echo through the sky Alleluia.
4. They through the fields of Paradise that roam,
The blessed ones, repeat through that bright home Alleluia.
5. The planets glittering on their heavenly way,
The shining constellations, join, and say Alleluia.
6. Ye clouds that onward sweep!
Ye winds on pinions light!
Ye thunders, echoing loud and deep!
Ye lightnings, wildly bright!
In sweet consent unite your Alleluia.
​7. Ye floods and ocean billows!
Ye storms and winter snow!
Ye days of cloudless beauty!
Hoar frost and summer glow!
Ye groves that wave in spring,
And glorious forests, sing Alleluia.
8. First let the birds, with painted plumage gay,
Exalt their great Creator's praise, and say Alleluia.
9. Then let the beasts of earth with varying strain,
Join in Creation's Hymn, and cry again Alleluia.
10. Here let the mountains thunder forth, sonorous, Alleluia.
There, let the valleys sing in gentler chorus, Alleluia.
11. Thou jubilant abyss of ocean, cry Alleluia.
Ye tracts of earth and continents, reply Alleluia.
12. To God, Who all Creation made,
The frequent hymn be duly paid: Alleluia.
13. This is the strain, the eternal strain, the Lord of all things loves: Alleluia.
This is the song, the heav'nly song, that Christ Himself approves: Alleluia.
​14. Wherefore we sing, both heart and voice awaking, Alleluia.
And children's voices echo, answer making, Alleluia.
15. Now from all men be outpour'd
Alleluia to the Lord;
With Alleluia evermore
The Son and Spirit we adore.
16. Praise be done to the Three in One.
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
# Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences/Crux mundi benedictio

Crux mundi benedictio.
S. Peter Damiani, in almost all his compositions, seems to have had his eye on some earlier hymn: in the present case he clearly follows the Vexilla Regis. The following does not seem to have been publicly used by the Church.
O Cross, whereby the earth is blest,
Certain Redemption, Hope, and Best,
Once as the Tree of Torture known,
Now the bright gate to Jesu's Throne:
On thee the Host was lifted high
Who to Himself drew all men nigh;
Whom this world's Prince in malice sought,
And in His spotless soul found nought.
The Law that in thy form begins
Blots out the writing of our sins:
Our ancient servitude is o'er
And freedom is restored once more.
​Thy savour is more precious far
Than sweetest scents of spices are;
The nectar that from thee distils
The bosom with its fragrance fills.
Thou by Thy Cross, O Christ, we pray,
To life's reward direct our way:
Who of old time upon the Tree
Our Ransom didst vouchsafe to be.
The Unbegotten Father's Praise,
And the begotten Son's we raise,
And equal laud and glory be,
Spirit of Both, for aye to Thee!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1730

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XIX. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1730. — August 11, 1877. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXXIV. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Virgil, as a Link between the Ancient and Modern World, | Contemporary Review, | 323 |
| II. | The Little Old Man of the Batignolles. A Chapter from a Detective's Memoir. Translated for The Living Age, from the French of | Emile Gaborain, | 334 |
| III. | Morality in Politics. By the Duke of Argyll, | Contemporary Review, | 345 |
| IV. | Pauline. By L. B. Walford, author of "Mr. Smith," etc. Part X., | Blackwood's Magazine, | 353 |
| V. | Life and Times of Thomas Becket. By James Anthony Froude. Part II., | Nineteenth Century, | 360 |
| VI. | Green Pastures and Piccadilly. By William Black. Part XXIII., | Examiner, | 368 |
| VII. | Dresden China and its Manufactory at Meissen, Saxony, | Blackwood's Magazine, | 372 |
| VIII. | The Peak in Darien: the Riddle of Death. By Frances Power Cobbe, | New Quarterly Review, | 374 |
| IX. | Unsuspected Ways of Earning a Livelihood, | Chambers' Journal, | 379 |
| X. | Famous English Printers, | Globe, | 381 |
| XI. | Good Matches | Truth, | 383 |
| XII. | On the Trees and Shrubs of the South of France which Perish in Severe Winters | Popular Science Review, | 384 |
POETRY. :
| Variations | | The Right Hon. Sir George Mellish, | 322 |
| I. - Outward Bound, | 322 | June, | 322 |
| II. - Spring is here, | 322 | A Woman's "No", | 322 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1729/Miscellany

​Disturbance of the London Shipping Trade. — The following may be of interest as showing how the trade of the port of London has already been disturbed during the past month by the unsettled state of affairs on the Continent. The number of ships cleared with cargoes during April was 477, representing 233,626 tons. Of these 235 were British steamers, of 122,206 tons; 117 British sailing vessels, of 70,392 tons; 52 foreign steamers, of 27,092 tons; and 73 foreign sailing vessels, of 13,936 tons. The number of ships cleared during April, 1876, was 558, representing 269,444 tons, which comprised 290 British steamers, of 137,797 tons; 139 British sailing, of 79,120 tons; 65 foreign steamers, of 36,142 tons; and 64 foreign sailing, of 16,385 tons. These figures show a decrease of 81 in the number of ships cleared, and a decrease in the tonnage of 35,818. The disturbance is the more evident, as the clearances for the four months of the present year show an increase of 90 ships and 8,765 tons as compared with the first four months of 1876. The figures were: number of ships, 1,953; tons, 964,300. In 1876, 1,863 ships; tons, 955,535. The excitement in the shipping trade on the Tyne occasioned by the proclamation of war last week has subsided. The coal freights from the Tyne to the Mediterranean, which rose suddenly, have returned to their former conditions. Freights to Genoa, which ran up last week from £17 per keel to £22, are down to £17, and Carthagena freights have fallen from £l7 to £12 10s. Rates are still, however, a little above the usual price, but are kept down by the difficulty of getting return cargoes. Echo.
Lawyers' Bags. — "Middle Templar" writes to Notes and Queries of May 5: "It may not be uninteresting to note, for the benefit of the future antiquary, the actual existing use in regard to the above, a use which is minutely regulated by that lex non scripta of etiquette which no causidicus may with impunity transgress. Barristers' bags are either red or dark blue. Red bags are, strictly speaking, reserved for queen's counsel and Serjeants; but a stuff-gownsman may carry one if presented therewith by a 'silk.' Such presentation is a solemn business; the fortunate 'junior' is expected to bestow a guinea on the Q. C.'s clerk who brings the coveted distinction to his chambers, and is afterwards, in addition, fined for the honor by his circuit mess. It is an imperative rule that only red bags may be taken into court; blue bags are not to be carried further than the robing-room. I speak only of the practice of the Common Law bar; of the Chancery regulations on the subject I know nothing; nor can I say anything of the custom of the lower branch of the profession. As far, however, as I have observed as an outsider, every solicitor pleases himself in the matter, carrying a blue, red, or purple bag, as seems good "in his own eyes."
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1729/Spring's Secret

* SPRING'S SECRET.
* Girdled with gold, my little lady's bower
* Stands at the portals of a world in flower;
* And on her shield the changing blossoms mark
* How the spring grows each day from dawn to dark.
* When forth she moves, her dainty foot is set
* On cowslip, hyacinth, and violet;
* And all day long the woodland minstrels ring
* Changes of measure for her pleasuring.
* And all night long a passionate music stirs
* Without her walls the guardian belt of firs;
* Hushed in their waving boughs, the low winds brood,
* Murm'ring the sea's song for an interlude.
* Within the darkness does my lady wake,
* To hear her nightingales their music make,
* And musing, Weep and wonder at the pain
* That breaks through all the rapture of their strain?
* Does the dawn rouse her with its murmurous flight
* Of swallows glancing grey against the light,
* To dream again of all the joys that lie
* Folded within the new day's mystery?
* Nay, through her world of blossom, flower-wise,
* My lady moves with unawakened eyes;
* She heeds not if the apple bloom be shed,
* Nor if the hours pass by rose-garlanded.
* No soft hopes greet her with first lily bells,
* No memories smite her in wan asphodels,
* Nor hears she when the autumn winds are borne
* By their low cadence in the summer corn.
* While thus unmoved my lady keeps her state,
* Without her walls I year-long watch and wait;
* Till she awake and summon me to bring
* Low to her feet the secret of the spring.
* Good Words.C. Brooke
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1729/Switzerland, viâ Paris And Neuchatel

* SWITZERLAND, viâ PARIS AND NEUCHATEL.
* I. THE EVENING.
* Jingle, tinkle, rattle, rumble through the glittering, shimmering street,
* Hark to coach and carriage chiming with the pattering tramp of feet!
* Crop-haired waiters run white-aproned to the call of ringing glass,
* Lazy idlers, round small tables, eyeing idlers as they pass.
* All the air is heated, heavy, gritty; oh, 'tis hard to tell
* Whether fruit it be, or gravy, or tobacco that you smell;
* For a very complex perfume goes up steaming to the stars
* From twice twenty thousand cook-shops, from a million of cigars.
* Jingle, tinkle, rattle, rumble through the glittering, shimmering streets,
* Drive in time to ticket luggage, and get comfortable seats;
* With a shoving, and a shouting, and a banging-to of doors,
* Off at last, the train creaks, moves, grates, quickens, hurries, rushes, roars.
* II. THE NIGHT.
* Happy he who sleeps securely in the arms of an express,
* Whom nor row nor racket troubles, nor the jolts and jars distress!
* Sweet it is to slumber soundly through the livelong summer night,
* With legs propped upon the cushions, with dim blind drawn o'er the light.
* Does a station break the sameness of monotonous rush-on?
* Then queer dreams confuse the future with adventures that are gone.
* Then he preaches from a "Murray;" stethoscopes with alpenstock;
* Speculates in railway coupons; dooms a landlord in a dock.
* Then an avalanche o'erwhelms him! 'Tis a hat-box from the rack;
* Or he tumbles down an ice-hill with a mountain on his back,
* And half wakes to find he's falling on a fellow-dreamer's knees,
* Stiff and weary of contraction, like a wretch in Little Ease.
* III. THE MORNING.
* But behold wan dawn before us, whispering a new day's birth;
* See her roses bloom in cloudland, hear her morning hymn to earth;
* Sending thankful music Godward, flinging incense in the air,
* All the world's awake, and wondering how it came to wake so fair.
* Hail, old lichened woods, that waft us dear remembered scent of pine;
* Hail, mysterious winds that gladden like the giant's draught of wine;
* Hail, high hills, that whoso loveth, loveth with a yearning love,
* Everlasting shrines of worship, steppingstones to things above.
* Through rent rocks, down winding gorges, rushes on our steed of steel,
* Till a blue lake's shining waters purest heaven in earth reveal;
* Cares, begone; unrest, go packing; come, contentment with the light;
* Take the omen that the morning shall be gain upon the night.
* Spectator.Blomfield Jackson
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Longing

Layout 2
LONGING.
IF you could sit with me beside the sea to-day, And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er; I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray, And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore.
If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day, And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old, ​I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray, Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.
If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day, And tell me that my longing love had won your own, I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away, And I could give back laughter for the Ocean's moan!
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Song

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SONG.
MY heart to thy heart, My hand to thine; My lips to thy lips, Kisses are wine Brewed for the lover in sunshine and shade; Let me drink deep, then, my African maid.
Lily to lily, Rose unto rose; My love to thy love Tenderly grows. Rend not the oak and the ivy in twain, Nor the swart maid from her swarthier swain.
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Sunset

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SUNSET.
THE river sleeps beneath the sky, And clasps the shadows to its breast; The crescent moon shines dim on high; And in the lately radiant west The gold is fading into gray. Now stills the lark his festive lay, And mourns with me the dying day.
While in the south the first faint star Lifts to the night its silver face, And twinkles to the moon afar Across the heaven's graying space, ​Low murmurs reach me from the town, As Day puts on her sombre crown, And shakes her mantle darkly down.
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Not They who Soar

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NOT THEY WHO SOAR.
NOT they who soar, but they who plod Their rugged way, unhelped, to God Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the sod. 'Tis they whose backs have felt the rod, Whose feet have pressed the path unshod, May smile upon defeated care, Not they who soar.
​High up there are no thorns to prod, Nor boulders lurking 'neath the clod To turn the keenness of the share, For flight is ever free and rare; But heroes they the soil who 've trod, Not they who soar!
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Ode for Memorial Day

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ODE FOR MEMORIAL DAY.
DONE are the toils and the wearisome marches, Done is the summons of bugle and drum. Softly and sweetly the sky overarches, Sheltering a land where Rebellion is dumb. Dark were the days of the country's derangement, Sad were the hours when the conflict was on, But through the gloom of fraternal estrangement God sent his light, and we welcome the dawn. O'er the expanse of our mighty dominions, Sweeping away to the uttermost parts, Peace, the wide-flying, on untiring pinions, Bringeth her message of joy to our hearts.
Ah, but this joy which our minds cannot measure, What did it cost for our fathers to gain! Bought at the price of the heart's dearest treasure, Born out of travail and sorrow and pain; ​Born in the battle where fleet Death was flying, Slaying with sabre-stroke bloody and fell; Born where the heroes and martyrs were dying, Torn by the fury of bullet and shell. Ah, but the day is past: silent the rattle, And the confusion that followed the fight Peace to the heroes who died in the battle, Martyrs to truth and the crowning of Right!
Out of the blood of a conflict fraternal, Out of the dust and the dimness of death, Burst into blossoms of glory eternal Flowers that sweeten the world with their breath. Flowers of charity, peace, and devotion Bloom in the hearts that are empty of strife; Love that is boundless and broad as the ocean Leaps into beauty and fulness of life. So, with the singing of pæans and chorals, And with the flag flashing high in the sun, Place on the graves of our heroes the laurels Which their unfaltering valor has won!
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Merry Autumn

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MERRY AUTUMN.
IT's all a farce,—these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o'er field and dell, Because the year is dying.
Such principles are most absurd,— I care not who first taught 'em; There's nothing known to beast or bird To make a solemn autumn.
In solemn times, when grief holds sway With countenance distressing, You'll note the more of black and gray Will then be used in dressing.
​Now purple tints are all around; The sky is blue and mellow; And e'en the grasses turn the ground From modest green to yellow.
The seed burrs all with laughter crack On featherweed and jimson; And leaves that should be dressed in black Are all decked out in crimson.
A butterfly goes winging by; A singing bird comes after; And Nature, all from earth to sky, Is bubbling o'er with laughter.
The ripples wimple on the rills, Like sparkling little lasses; The sunlight runs along the hills, And laughs among the grasses.
The earth is just so full of fun It really can't contain it; And streams of mirth so freely run The heavens seem to rain it. ​Don't talk to me of solemn days In autumn's time of splendor, Because the sun shows fewer rays, And these grow slant and slender.
Why, it's the climax of the year,— The highest time of living!— Till naturally its bursting cheer Just melts into thanksgiving.
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Ode to Ethiopia

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ODE TO ETHIOPIA.
O MOTHER Race! to thee I bring This pledge of faith unwavering, This tribute to thy glory. I know the pangs which thou didst feel, When Slavery crushed thee with its heel, With thy dear blood all gory.
Sad days were those—ah, sad indeed! But through the land the fruitful seed Of better times was growing. The plant of freedom upward sprung, And spread its leaves so fresh and young— Its blossoms now are blowing.
​On every hand in this fair land, Proud Ethiope's swarthy children stand Beside their fairer neighbor; The forests flee before their stroke, Their hammers ring, their forges smoke,— They stir in honest labour.
They tread the fields where honour calls; Their voices sound through senate halls In majesty and power. To right they cling; the hymns they sing Up to the skies in beauty ring, And bolder grow each hour.
Be proud, my Race, in mind and soul; Thy name is writ on Glory's scroll In characters of fire. High 'mid the clouds of Fame's bright sky Thy banner's blazoned folds now fly, And truth shall lift them higher.
Thou hast the right to noble pride, Whose spotless robes were purified ​By blood's severe baptism. Upon thy brow the cross was laid, And labour's painful sweat-beads made A consecrating chrism.
No other race, or white or black, When bound as thou wert, to the rack, So seldom stooped to grieving; No other race, when free again, Forgot the past and proved them men So noble in forgiving.
Go on and up! Our souls and eyes Shall follow thy continuous rise; Our ears shall list thy story From bards who from thy root shall spring, And proudly tune their lyres to sing Of Ethiopia's glory.
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Promise and Fulfilment

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PROMISE.
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Passion and Love

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PASSION AND LOVE.
A MAIDEN wept and, as a comforter, Came one who cried, "I love thee," and he seized Her in his arms and kissed her with hot breath, That dried the tears upon her flaming cheeks. While evermore his boldly blazing eye Burned into hers; but she uncomforted Shrank from his arms and only wept the more.
Then one came and gazed mutely in her face With wide and wistful eyes; but still aloof He held himself; as with a reverent fear, As one who knows some sacred presence nigh. And as she wept he mingled tear with tear, That cheered her soul like dew a dusty flower,— Until she smiled, approached, and touched his hand!
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Retort

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RETORT.
# Lengths and Levels To Bradshaw's Maps

Lengths and Levels
to
BRADSHAW’S MAPS
of
THE CANALS,
NAVIGABLE RIVERS,
and
RAILWAYS,
in the
PRINCIPAL PART OF ENGLAND.
dedicated to
THOMAS TELFORD, F.R.S. L. & E.
President of the Institution of Civil Engineers.
DATUM, SIX FEET TEN INCHES UNDER THE SILL OF THE OLD DOCK GATES AT LIVERPOOL.
London:
PRINTED BY E. RUFF, 2, HIND COURT, FLEET STREET.
1833.
Explanation.
In submitting the Series of Levels which have been taken for this Work, it may be necessary to give some explanation of the plan pursued, and of its general utility to the public. I have taken 6 feet 10 inches below the sill of the Old Dock Gates at Liverpool for my standard; and on the lines of Navigation and Railway, is marked, in Feet and Inches, the height that such parts are above that standard. By this means the comparative elevation of the county, whether upon the same or different lines of Navigation or Railway, can be readily ascertained.
This information will be found of the greatest importance to those who are interested in the union, or extension of the present Canals, Railways, or Turnpike Roads; and it is also hoped that it will be useful to the Legislator, the Man of Science, and an excellent reference to Public Companies, and individual Share Holders.
By levelling along the Grand Junction and Regent’s Canals, I have been enabled to connect these levels with those taken by Captain Lloyd, from Sheerness to London Bridge.
# Lenin: The Great Strategist of the Class War

Originally published in 1924 as Великий стратег классовой войны
page
​Page:Solomon Abramovich Lozovsky - Lenin, The Great Strategist of the Class War - tr. Alexander Bittleman (1924).pdf/2
page
Labor Herald Library
No. 13
LENIN
The Great Strategist of the Class War
By A. LOSOVSKY
Translation and Introduction by Alexander Bittelman
Price 15c
Published by The Trade Union Educational League 1113 W. Washington Blvd., Chicago, Ill.
* Introduction
* Lenin: The Great Strategist of the Class War
* End Matter
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.