THE INQUIRY.

Tell me, ye winged winds, That round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot Where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dell, Some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, The weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sigh’d for pity as it answered “No!” Tell me, thou mighty deep, Whose billows round me play, Knowest thou some favour’d spot, Some island far away, Where weary man may find The bliss for which he sighs? Where sorrow never lives, And friendship never dies? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopp’d for a while, and sigh’d, to answer. “No!” And thou, serenest moon, That, with such holy face, Dost look upon the earth Asleep in night’s embrace, Tell me, in all thy round Hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man Might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud, the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded “No!” Tell me, my secret soul, O! tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place From sorrow, sin, and death? Is there no happy spot Where mortals may be bless’d— Where grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest? Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whisper’d, “Yes! in Heaven!” —Mackay’s Poems