The Dean of Faculty——A new Ballad—

DIRE was the hate at Old Harlaw
That Scot to Scot did carry;
And dire the discord Langside saw,
For the beauteous, hapless Mary:
But Scot to Scot ne'er met so hot,
Or were more in fury seen, Sir,
Than 'twixt HAL and BOB for the famous job
Who should be the FACULTY's DEAN, Sir.------

This HAL for genius, wit and lore
Among the first was number'd;
But pious BOB, 'mid Learning's store,
Commandment the tenth remember'd.
Yet simple BOB the victory got,
And won his heart's desire;
Which shews that Heaven can boil the pot,
Tho' the devil piss in the fire.------

Squire HAL besides, had in this case
Pretensions rather brassy,
For talents, to deserve a place
Are qualifications saucy;
So their Worships of the Faculty,
Quite sick of Merit's rudeness,
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
To their gratis grace and goodness.----

As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight
Of a son of Circumcision,
So may be, on this Pisgah height,
BOB's purblind mental vision:
Nay, BOBBY's mouth may be opened yet,
Till for eloquence you hail him,
And swear that he has the angel met
That met the ass of Balaam.---

In your heretic sins may ye live and die,
Ye heretic Eight and thirty!
But accept, ye sublime Majority,
My congratulations hearty.----
With your Honors and a certain King
In your servants this is striking--------
The more incapacity they bring,
The more they 're to your liking.--------