Leo notes that, pending a re-arrangement of the stage, there was a brief intermission, and later, that having become weary from strained attention, and drowsy from the soothing pleasures of the occasion, his thoughts flitted back over the silent years, and falling into a half-unconscious reverie, he seized the thread and wove from the thrilling scenes of the past the panorama of a pleasing dream. In his chant, we catch the echoes of a farewell to his native land, and, floating away into aimless realms, he follows the devious path of other days, where vaguely arise the fleeting phantoms of pleasures forever gone.
We know not the mystery of a dream, but in Leo Bergin’s brain the hoary mountains rise, the restless seas moan, and the scenes of ever-enchanting Zelania unroll like a magic scroll. In modest phrase he sings the memories of early wanderings, and that through his mental gleams we may reach a higher appreciation of the unfolding views, I quote his rippling rhymes:—
LEO BERGIN’S REVERIE.
Sweet home, adieu! With vent’rous crew,
I’m sailing o’er the ocean blue.
As on we leap, the eye doth sweep
The curving borders of the deep.
The days glide by, I gaze and sigh,
But nought appears, save sea and sky.
Behold! there rise, ’neath Southern skies,
Green Isles that greet our glad surprise.
Oh! lovely Isles, where Nature smiles,
And beckons to the “afterwhiles.”
Here fancy drew, from old and new,
To give the soul extended view.