FUNERAL HYMN. And open wide, thou Gate of Peace, 107 Nor grudge a narrow couch, dear neighbors, For slumbers won by life-long labors. Beneath these sods how close ye lie! "I quickly come!" that Saviour cries; The Bugle-Song. THE splendor falls on castle walls, And the wild cataract leaps in glory: Blow, bugle, blow!-set the wild echoes flying! Blow, bugle! answer echoes, dying, dying, dying! O hark! O hear! how thin and clear, The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow! let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle! answer echoes, dying, dying, dying! O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill, on field, on river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes answer, dying, dying, dying! ENIGMAS. 111 Enigmas. FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. A BRIDGE weaves its own arch with pearls And in a moment it unfurls Its dizzy span unbounded, free. The tallest barks, with swelling sail, It bears no burden, 't is too frail, And when thou wouldst approach it flees. With floods it came, and disappears Say where its lofty arch it rears, Know'st thou the picture soft of hue? Yet ever perfect, fresh, and bright. |