The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

-Tennyson
  The Princess, pt.4, added song, stanza1.

   O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

-Tennyson
  The Princess, pt.4, added song, stanza 2.

The new moon hangs like an ivory bugle In the naked frosty blue.

-Thomas, (Philip) Edward
  'The PennyWhistle'.