614 JAMES CLERK MAXWELL. 



Thickest fog had settled slowly 

 Kound the candle, burning lowly, 

 Bound the fire, where melancholy 



Traced retreating hills of gold. 



Still those papers lay before me- 

 Problems made express to bore me, 

 When a silent change came o'er me, 



In my hard uneasy chair. 

 Fire and fog, and candle faded, 

 Spectral forms the room invaded, 

 Little creatures, that paraded 



On the problems lying there. 



Fathers there, of every college, 



Led the glorious ranks of knowledge, 



Men, whose virtues all acknowledge 



Levied the proctorial fines ; 

 There the modest Moderators, 

 Set apart as arbitrators 

 'Twixt contending calculators, 



Scrutinised the trembling lines. 



All the costly apparatus, 

 That is meant to elevate us 

 To the intellectual status 



Necessary for degrees 

 College tutors private coaches 

 Line the Senate-house approaches. 

 If our Alma Mater dote, she's 



Taken care of well by these. 



Much I doubted if the vision 



Were the simple repetition 



Of the statements of Commission, 



Strangely jumbled, oddly placed. 

 When an awful form ascended, 

 And with cruel words defended 

 Those abuses that offended 



My unsanctioned private taste. 



