Perthshire in bygone days

CAKOLINE OLIPHANT. 401
ON EECOVEKING FROM SICKNESS.
I thought to join the heavenly choir,
To strike a harp of light ;
While this forgotten, tuneless lyre
Rested 'mid shades of night,
I thought to dwell in heavenly bowers,
Where angels have their seat,
And wreathe immortal amaranth flowers
To cast at Jesus' feet,
Alas ! this jarring broken lute
Alone remains to me !
In vain I sweep its cords so mute ;
They wake no melody.
No fragrant crown from Eden's bowers
Is giv'n into my hand ;
Only a wreath of with'ring flowers
Culled in this desert land.
With pity, Lord, my offering view,
Although for Thee unmeet ;
'Tis all enthroned saints can do,
To lay it at Thy feet.
From silence my mute lyre release,
And tune its chords to love ;
Breathe o'er its numbers breathe thy peace, —
Echo oijoy above.
Next year our poetess paid a visit to Ireland, but she
did not recover strength, which, coupled with her family
antecedents, naturally tended to depress her spirits ; and,
like a sentient being, she set herself to translate all her
hopes and confidings to an existence which she felt would
be of longer duration, and more congenial to her subdued
and relying spirit. At this period the lines entitled "Home
in Heaven," were written — lines which not only show
uncommon powers of versification, but the rarer talent of
being able to combine a series of objects to form one grand
whole. The first and second lines, as applied to the
Christian invalid, whose life is quivering on the confines of
the unseen world, and with the great gulf of death between
her and all she is panting after, represented as " Standing
windbound near the unfathomed main" is a poetical and
most expressive conception. Waiting close to death, with no
knowledge of its character, she can look beyond the death
of the body, and see the last duties paid to herself ; the
coining of the coffin and the gathering of the mourners, —
the open grave, and the first hollow knockings of the clod as
DD