638 JAMES CLERK MAXWELL. 



Yield, then, ye rules of rigid reason ! 



Dissolve, thou too, too solid sense ! 

 Melt into nonsense for a season, 



Then in some nobler form condense. 

 Soon, all too soon, the chilly morning, 



This flow of soul will crystallize, 

 Then those who Nonsense now are scorning, 



May learn, too late, where wisdom lies. 



Molecular Evolution. 



SONG OF THE CUB. 



Belfast, 1874. 

 I KNOW not what this may betoken, 



That I feel so wondrous wise ; 

 My dream of existence is broken 



Since science has opened my eyes. 

 At the British Association 



I heard the President's speech, 

 And the methods and facts of creation 



Seemed suddenly placed in my reach. 



My life's undivided devotion 



To Science I solemnly vowed, 

 I'd dredge up the bed of the ocean, 



I'd draw down the spark from the cloud. 

 To follow my thoughts as they go on, 



Electrodes I'd place in my brain ; 

 Nay, I'd swallow a live entozoon, 



New feelings of life to obtain. 



where are those high feasts of Science ? 

 where are those words of the wise ? 



1 hear but the roar of Eed Lions, 



I, eat what their Jackal supplies. 

 I meant to be so scientific, 



But science seems turned into fun ; 

 And this, with his roaring terrific, 



That old red lion hath done. 



