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Sad news,
Bad news,

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A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Stay a little, and news will find you.
Mother of exiles.

HERBERT Jacula Prudentum.
EMMA LAZARUS—The New Colossus.

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What, what, what,
Some day this old Broadway shall climb to the What's the news from Swat?

skies,
As a ribbon of cloud on a soul-wind shall rise,
And we shall be lifted, rejoicing by night, Comes by the cable; led
Till we join with the planets who choir their de- Through the Indian Ocean's bed,
light.

Through the Persian Gulf, the Red
The signs in the streets and the signs in the skies Sea, and the Med-
Shall make a new Zodiac, guiding the wise, Iterranean-he's dead;
And Broadway make one with that marvelous The Akhoond is dead.
stair

GEORGE THOMAS LANIGAN—The Akhoond of That is climbed by the rainbow-clad spirits of Swat. Written after seeing the item in the prayer.

London papers, Jan. 22, 1878, “The
VACHEL LINDSAY—Rhyme about an Electrical Akhoond of Swat is dead."
Advertising Sign.

Who, or why, or which, or what,
Up in the heights of the evening skies I see my Is the Akhond of Swat?
City of Cities float

EDWARD LEAR—The Akhond of Swat.
In sunset's golden and crimson dyes: I look and
a great joy clutches my throat!

Ill news, madam,
Plateau of roofs by canyons crossed: windows by Are swallow-winged, but what's good
thousands fire-furled

Walks on crutches.
O gazing, how the heart is lost in the Deepest MASSINGER—Picture. Act II. 1.
City in the World.

(See also DRYDEN)
JAMES OPPENHEIM—New York from a Sky-.
scraper.

News, news, news, my gossiping friends,

I have wonderful news to tell, Just where the Treasury's marble front

A lady by me her compliments sends; Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations - And this is the news from Hell! Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont

OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)-News. To throng for trade and last quotations; Where, hour, by hour, the rates of gold

He's gone, and who knows how he may report Outrival, in the ears of people,

Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled

MILTON-Samson Agonistes. L. 1,350.
From Trinity's undaunted steeple.
E. C. STEDMAN-Pan in Wall Street.

For evil news rides post, while good news baits.

MILTON—Samson Agonistes. L. 1,538.
Lo! body and soul!—this land!
Mighty Manhattan, with spires, and

As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good
The sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships; news from a far country.
The varied and ample land,—the South

Proverbs. XXV. 25. And the North in the light-Ohio's shores, and

flashing Missouri, And ever the far-spreading prairies, covered with That long time have been barren. grass and corn.

Antony and Cleopatra. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 24. WALT WHITMAN-Sequel to Drum-Taps. When

Prithee, friend, Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom'd. St. 12.

Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,

The good and bad together. NEWS (See also JOURNALISM, NOVELTY) Antony and Cleopatra. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 53. By evil report and good report

Though it be honest, it is never good

To bring bad news; give to a gracious message II Corinthians. VI. 8.

An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell Il news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

Themselves when they be felt. DRYDEN—Threnodia Augustalis. L. 49.

Antony and Cleopatra. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 85. (See also MASSINGER)

Here comes Monsieur le Beau

With his mouth full of news, Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound.

Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their And news much older than their ale went round.

young. GOLDSMITH–The Deserted Village. L. 223.

Then shall we be news-crammed.

As You Like It. Act I, Sc. 2. L. 96. It is good news, worthy of all acceptation, and

If it be summer news, yet not too good to be true.

Smile to 't before: if winterly, thou need'st
MATTHEW HENRY_Commentaries. I Tirnothy. But keep that countenance still.
I. 15.

Cymbeline. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 12.

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O radiant Dark! O darkly fostered ray!

And the night shall be filled with music Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow Day.

And the cares, that infest the day, GEORGE ELIOT—Spanish Gypsy. Bk. I. Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 2

And as silently steal away.
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering LONGFELLOW—The Day is Done.

wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind: God makes sech nights, all white an' still
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, Fur'z you can look or listen,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made. Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill,
GOLDSMITH-Deserted Village. L. 121.

All silence an' all glisten. 3

LOWELL-The Courtin'.
A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,

Night hath a thousand eyes.
Where the sun, his day's work ended,

LYLY-Maydes Metamorphose. Act III. Sc. 1. Lingers as in content,

(See also BOURDILLON) There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene,

Quiet night, that brings A shining peace.

Rest to the labourer, is the outlaw's day, HENLEY-Margaritæ Sorori.

In which he rises early to do wrong,

And when his work is ended dares not sleep. The smoke ascends

MASSINGER—The Guardian. Act II. Sc. 4. In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine and are changed. In the valley

A night of tears! for the gusty rain Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun Had ceased, but the eaves were dripping yet; Closing his benediction,

And the moon look'd forth, as tho' in pain, Sinks, and the darkening air

With her face all white and wet. Thrills with the sense of the triumphing night, — OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)—The WanNight with train of stars

derer. Bk. II. The Portrait. And her great gift of sleep. HENLEY–Margaritæ Sorori.

O thievish Night, 5

Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light, In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, And drew behind the cloudy vale of night. That nature hung in heaven, and filled their HOMER-Iliad. Bk. VIII. L. 605. POPE's lamps trans.

With everlasting oil, to give due light

To the misled and lonely traveller
At night, to his own dark fancies a prey,

MILTON-Comus. L. 195.
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
Tormenting himself with his prickles.

* And when night HooD-Miss Kilmansegy and her precious Leg.

Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 7

Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. Watchman, what of the night?

MILTON—Paradise Lost. Bk. I. L. 500. Isaiah. XXI. 11.

Where eldest Night 8 Night, when deep sleep falleth on men.

And Chaos, ancestors of nature, hold Job. IV. 13; XXXIII. 15.

Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. The night cometh when no man can work.

MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk II. L. 894. John. IX. 4.

Sable-vested Night, eldest of things. 10

MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. II. L. 962. "Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright,

* For now began And the stars they glisten, glisten,

Night with her sullen wings to double-shade Seeming with bright eyes to listen

The desert; fowls in their clay nests were couch'd, For what listen they?

And now wild beasts came forth, the woods to KEATS-A Prophecy. L. 1. 11

Multon-Paradise Regained. Bk. I. L. 499, I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls.

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Darkness now rose, LONGFELLOW-Hymn to the Night.

As daylight sunk, and brought in low'ring Night (See also WHITMAN)

Her shadowy offspring. 12

MILTON--Paradise Regained. Bk. IV. L. 397. O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear

25 What man has borne before!

Night is the time for rest; Thou layest thy fingers on the lips of Care,

How sweet, when labours close, And they complain no more.

To gather round an aching breast LONGFELLOW-Hymn to the Night.

The curtain of repose, 13

Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Then stars arise, and the night is holy.

Down on our own delightful bed! LONGFELLOW-Hyperion. Bk. I. Ch. I. MONTGOMERY-Night. St. 1.

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roam.

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NIGHTINGALE
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers

I have heard the nightingale herself.
Round the day's dead sanctities.

KING AGESILAUS when asked to listen to a FRANCIS THOMPSON—Hound of Heaven. L. 84. man imitate the nightingale. PLUTARCH —

Life of Agesilaus.
Now black and deep the Night begins to fall,
A shade immense! Šunk in the quenching Gloom, Hark! ah, the nightingale
Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth.

The tawny-throated!
Order confounded lies; all beauty void,

Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst! Distinction lost, and gay variety

What triumph! hark!—what pain!
One universal blot: such the fair power
Of light, to kindle and create the whole.
THOMSON—The Seasons. Autumn. L. 113.

Listen, Eugenia

How thick the bursts come crowding through 3 Come, drink the mystic wine of Night,

the leaves! Brimming with silence and the stars;

Again—thou hearest? While earth, bathed in this holy light,

Eternal passion! Is seen without its scars.

Eternal pain! LOUIS UNTERMEYER—The Wine of Night.

MATTHEW ARNOLD-Philomela. L. 32. When, upon orchard and lane, breaks the

For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, white foam of the Spring

So poets live upon the living light. When, in extravagant revel, the Dawn, a BAILEY-Festus. Sc. Home.

Bacchante upleaping, Spills, on the tresses of Night, vintages golden and red

As it fell upon a day
When, as a token at parting, munificent Day In the merry month of May,
for remembrance,

Sitting in a pleasant shade
Gives, unto men that forget, Ophirs of fabulous Which a grove of myrtles made.

RICHARD BARNFIELD—Address to the NightinWILLIAM WATSON–Hymn to the Sea. Pt. III. gale.

12. 5

It is the hour when from the boughs
Mysterious night! when our first parent knew The nightingale's high note is heard;
Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, It is the hour when lovers' vows
Did he not tremble for this lovely frame,

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.
This glorious canopy of light and blue?

BYRON—Parisina. St. 1. JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE-Night and Death. 6

“Most musical, most melancholy” bird! The summer skies are darkly blue,

A melancholy bird! Oh! idle thought! The days are still and bright,

In nature there is nothing melancholy.
And Evening trails her robes of gold

COLERIDGE—The Nightingale. L. 13.
Through the dim halls of Night.
SARAH H. P. WHITMAN–Summer's Call.

'Tis the merry nightingale (See also LONGFELLOW)

That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates

With fast thick warble his delicious notes, Night begins to muffle up the day.

As he were fearful that an April night WITHERS—Mistresse of Philarete.

Would be too short for him to utter forth

His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, Of all its music!
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth

COLERIDGE-The Nightingale. L. 43.
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound!

Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours, Nor eye, nor list’ning ear, an object finds;

Of winter's past or coming void of care, Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse

Well pleaséd with delights which present are, Of life stood still, and nature made a pause; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.

Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling

flowers. YOUNG-Night Thoughts. Night I. L. 18.

DRUMMOND--Sonnet. To a Nightingale.
How is night's sable mantle labor'd o'er,
How richly wrought with attributes divine!

Like a wedding-song all-melting
What wisdom shines! what love! this midnight Sings the nightingale, the dear one.

HEINE-Book of Songs. Donna Clara.
pomp,
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid
Built with divine ambition!

The nightingale appear'd the first,
YOUNG—Night Thoughts. Night IV. L. 385. And as her melody she sang,

The apple into blossom burst, Mine is the night, with all her stars.

To life the grass and violets

sprang. YOUNG—Paraphrase on Job. L. 147.

HEINE-Book of Songs. New Spring. No. 9.

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