SERIO-COMIC VERSE. 647 



Whence comes that most peculiar smattering, 



Heard in our section ? 

 Pure nonsense, to a scientific swing 



Drilled to perfection ? 

 That small word " Force," they make l a barber's block, 



Eeady to put on 

 Meanings most strange and various, fit to shock 



Pupils of Newton. 



Ancient and foreign ignorance they throw 



Into the bargain ; 

 The shade of Leibnitz 2 mutters from below 



Horrible jargon. 

 The phrases of last century in this 



Linger to play tricks 

 Vis Viva and Vis Mortua and Vis 



Acceleratrix : 



Those long-nebbed words that to our text books still 



Cling by their titles, 

 And from them creep, as entozoa will, 



Into our vitals. 

 But see ! Tait writes in lucid symbols clear 



One small equation ; 

 And Force becomes of Energy a mere 



Space-variation. 



Force, then, is Force, but mark you ! not a thing, 



Only a Vector ; 

 Thy barbed arrows now have lost their sting, 



Impotent spectre ! 

 Thy reign, Force ! is over. Now no more 



Heed we thine action ; 

 Eepulsion leaves us where we were before, 



So does attraction. 



1 v.r. is made. 2 v.r. sage of Leipzig. 



