620 JAMES CLERK MAXWELL. 



Long lie sought to win their place 



In the Gardener's favour ; 

 Well he caught the silent grace 



Of a plant's behaviour. 



All was useless, he confest, 



Earth for him unsuited; 

 Terror seized upon him, lest 



He should there be rooted. 

 " Cabbages are cabbages, 



Larks are larks," he muttered ; 

 Then, light springing in the breeze, 



Through the sky he fluttered. 



Farrar, mark my fable well, 



Fling away Ambition ; 

 By that sin the angels fell 



Into black perdition. 

 Cut the Calculus, and stop 



Paths that lead to error ; 

 Think below the Junior Op., 1 



Gapes the Gulph's grim terror. 



1 The occasion of this and of the following poem is fully explained 

 in a note from the Rev. Canon Farrar, which is here subjoined : 



To PROF. CAMPBELL. 



30th March 1882. 



MY DEAR SIR I am sorry that the playful nonsense of my under- 

 graduate days should be printed, but if the lines will in the slightest 

 degree help to illustrate the extreme goodness and kind-heartedness of 

 Maxwell, I am content. 



The circumstances were these. I went up to Cambridge very ill 

 prepared in mathematics, and my classical work was much hindered 

 by the considerable amount of mathematics required for a " Senior 

 Optime," at which I aimed. In despair I used to say to Maxwell 

 sometimes that I should be " plucked " in mathematics, which in those 

 days would have prevented my taking classical honours. He, in his 

 ready sympathy, and the kind interest which he showed towards me, 

 took my words d'un trop grand strieux, and wrote me the poetic apologue, 



