Air—The Fine Old English Gentleman.

[To be sung at all gatherings of advanced "siolists" and "scientists."]

We will sing you a grand new song evolved from a 'cute young pate,
Of a fine old Atom-Molecule of prehistoric date;
In size infinitesimal, in potencies though great,
And self-formed for developing at a prodigious rate—
Like a fine old Atom-Molecule,
Of the young world's proto-prime!
In it slept all the forces in our cosmos that run rife,
To stir creation's giants or its microscopic life;
Harmonious in discord and co-operant in strife,
To this small cell committed the world lived with his wife—
In this fine old Atom-Molecule,
Of the young world's proto-prime!
In this autoplastic archetype of protean protein clay
All the human's space has room for, for whom time makes a day,
From the sage whose words of wisdom prince or parliament obey,
To the parrots who but prattle, and the asses who but bray—
So full was this Atom-Molecule,
Of the young world's proto-prime!
All brute life, from lamb to lion, from the serpent to the dove,
All that pains the sense or pleasure, all the heart can loathe or love;
All instincts that drag downwards, all desires that upwards move
Were caged, a "happy family," cheek-by-jowl, and hand-in-glove,
In this fine old Atom-Molecule,
Of the young world's proto-prime!
In it order grew from chaos, light out of darkness shined,
Design sprang by accident, law's rule from hazard blind;
The soul-less soul evolving—against, not after kind,
As the life-less life developed, and the mind-less ripened mind,
In this fine old Atom-Molecule,
Of the young world's proto-prime!
Then bow down mind to matter; from brain fiber, will, withdraw;
Fall man's heart to cell ascidian, sink man's hand to monkey's paw;
And bend the knee to Protoplast in philosophic awe—
Both Creator and created, at once work and source of law.
And our Lord be the Atom-Molecule,
Of the young world's proto-prime!

Punch.