"But hark! A voice arises near the chair! Its liquid sounds glide smoothly through the air; The listening Muse with rapture bends to view The place of speaking and the speaker too. Neat was the youth in dress, in person plain; His eye read thus, _Philosopher-in-grain_; Of understanding clear, reflection deep; Expert to apprehend, and strong to keep. His watchful mind no subject can elude, Nor specious arts of sophist e'er delude; His powers, unshackled, range from pole to pole; His mind from error free, from guilt his soul. Warmth in his heart, good humour in his face, A friend to mirth, but foe to vile grimace; A temper candid, manner unassuming, Always correct, yet always unpresuming. Such was the youth, the chief of all the band; His name well known, Sir Humphry's right hand. With manly ease towards the chair he bends, With Watts' logic at his finger-ends, 'I rise (but shall not on the theme enlarge) To show my approbation of this charge: If proved it be, the censure should be passed Or this offence be neither worst nor last. A precedent will stand from year to year, And _'tis the usual practice_ we shall hear. Extreme severity 'tis right to shun, For who could stand were justice only done? And yet experience does most clearly show Extreme indulgence oft engenders woe. In striving then to hit the golden mean-- To knowledge, prudence, wisdom, virtue seen-- Let Isaac then be censured, not in spite But merely to evince our love of right. Truth, order, justice, cannot be preserved Unless the laws which rule us are observed. I for the _principle_ alone contend, Would lash the crime, but make the man my friend.'"