"Clear and cheerful rang out yonder
Bugle-horns and trumpets; but as
O'er the choir of forest singers
Sounds the nightingale's sweet warbling,
So above all rang out loudly
Rassmann's wondrous trumpet-blowing.
When we met, his cheeks were scarlet,
And fatigued appeared his breathing.
''Tis a point of honour,' said he;
And blew on still. Then were silenced