The Democratic Whig

The following beautiful poetry is from an unknown source; or at least we do not know to whom to credit it.

THE INQUIRY.

Tell me, ye winged winds,
That round my pathway roar,
Do ye not know some spot
Where mortals weep no more?

Some long 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 sighed for pity, as it answered "No."

Tell me thou mighty deep,
Whose billows round me play,
Know'st thou some favored spot,
Some Island far away,

Where weary man may find
The bliss for which he sighs,
Where sorrow never lies,
And friendship never dies?

The loud waves roaring in perpetual flow,
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer "No."

And thou, serenest moon,
That with such holy face,
Doth look upon the earth
Asleep to night's embrace,

Tell me, in all thy round,
Hast thou not known some vale,
Where miserable man
Might find a happier vale?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,
And a mermaids sweet, but sad, responded "No."

Tell me, my sacred soul,
Oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting place
From sorrow, sin and death?

Is there no happy spot
Where mortals may be blessed,
Where grief may find a balm,
And weariness a rest?

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,
Wav'd their bright wings, and whispered, Yes, in Heaven!