THE BLACK BASS AS A GAME FISH. 385 



High and low, — the steady strain maintaining; 

 The good rod swaying like a rush, as he 

 Surges through the Hood. 



Another leaji ! 

 Ye gods, how brave ! Like a lion shaking 

 His shaggy mane, he dives below again. 

 Did you mark, my friend, his shrewd intent, 

 As he fell across the line? If he then 

 Had found it stretched and tense, his escape 

 Was surely made. But the tip was lowered; 

 And with yielding line, the hook still held him fast. 



Now, truly, friend, he 

 Makes a gallant fight ! In air, or water, 

 All the same, his spiny crest erect, 

 He struggles to the last. No sulking here ; 

 But like a mettl'd steed, he champs the bit, 

 And speeds the best with firm-held, tighten'd, rein. 

 Now down the stream, he's ofT again, like shaft 

 From long-bow swiftly sped— his last bold spurt^ 

 The efTort cost him very dear ; his strength 

 Is ebbing fast. 



In decreasing circles 

 Now he swims, and labors with the tide. 

 As I reel the line, he slowly yields, 

 And now turns up his breast-plate, snowy white — 

 A vanquish'd, conquer'd knight. 



Now, my friend. 

 The landing-net; 'neatli the surface hold it, 

 With firm and cautious hand. There, lift him 

 Gently out ; and as gently lay him down. 

 His bright sides rival the velvet sward, in 

 Kich and glossy green. 



See the great rent 

 The hook hath made ! How easily 'tis withdrawn! 

 You marvel how I held him, safe? By the 

 Equal and continued strain of willowy rod, 

 And ever faithful reel. 

 33 



