How fair these names, how much unlike they look To all the blurr'd subscriptions in my book: The bridegroom's letters stand in row above. Tapering yet stout, like pine-trees in his grove; While free and fine the bride's appear below, As light and slender as her jasmines grow. Mark now in what confusion, stoop or stand, The crooked scrawls of many a clownish hand; 290 Now out, now in, they droop, they fall, they rise, Like raw recruits drawn forth for exercise; Ere yet reform'd and modell'd by the drill, The free-born legs stand striding as they will. Much have I tried to guide the fist along, But still the blunderers placed their blottings wrong: Behold these marks uncouth! how strange that men, Who guide the plough, should fail to guide the pen. For half a mile the furrows even lie; For half an inch the letters stand awry;-- 300 Our peasants, strong and sturdy in the field, Cannot these arms of idle students wield; Like them, in feudal days, their valiant lords Resign'd the pen and grasp'd their conqu'ring swords; They to robed clerks and poor dependent men Left the light duties of the peaceful pen; Nor to their ladies wrote, but sought to prove, By deeds of death, their hearts were fill'd with love. But yet, small arts have charms for female eyes; Our rustic nymphs the beau and scholar prize; 310 Unletter'd swains and ploughmen coarse they slight, For those who dress, and amorous scrolls indite.