THE HAZEL. 



143 



play-day, in order to go out and gather nuts, a 

 [ portion of which, vrhen they returned, they were 

 to make presents of to the different masters ; but 

 before leave was granted for their excursion, they 

 were required to write verses on the fruitfulness 

 of autumn and the deadly cold of the coming 

 winter. 



Thomson's allusion to this sport is well known : 



" Ye swains, now hasten to the Hazel-bank, 

 Where down yon dale, the wildly winding brook 

 Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array. 

 Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub, 

 Ye virgins come. For you their latest song 

 The woodlands raise ; the clustering nuts for you 

 The lover finds amid the secret shade ; 

 And where they burnish on the topmost bough, 

 W^ith active vigour crushes down the tree. 

 Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk, — 

 A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown, 

 As are the ringlets of Belinda's hair." 



Wordsworth's lines on the same subject are so 

 beautiful, and recall so forcibly feelings which 

 every one must have experienced who has spent 

 his early years in the country, that I cannot for- 

 bear quoting them at length: — 



It seems a day 



(I speak of one from many singled out) 



One of those heavenly days that cannot die ; 



Where in the eagerness of boyish hnpe^ 



I left our cottage threshold, sallying forth 



With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, 



A nutting crook in hand ; and turned my steps 



Towards some far-distant wood, a figure quaint. 



Tricked out in proud disguise of cast off weeds, 



W'hich for that ser\'ice had been husbanded, 



By exhortation of my frugal dame — 



Motley accoutrement, of power to smile 



At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, — and, in truth. 



More ragged than need was ! O'er pathless rocks, 



