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 softened to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity as it answered, No.
Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play,
Knowest thou some favourite 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,
Stopped for a while, and mumuring, answered, No.
And thou, serene moon, who with such holy face,
Dost look upon the earth asleep in night’s embrace,
Knowest thou no better land, hast thou not seen some spot
Where miserable man might find a happier lot?
Behind a cloud, the moon withdrew in woe,
And a sweet voice, but sad, responded, No.
Tell me, my secret soul, oh, tell me Hope and Faith,
And thou, O Love, reveal what inmost nature saith!
Is there no happier spot where mortals may be blest,
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest?
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boon to mortals given,
Waved their bright wings, and whispered, Yes, in heaven!