The Black Bass as a Game Fish. 353 



His wide-extended jaws he shakes in rage 

 To rid him of the hook. 



And now I lower 

 The pliant rod in covirt'sj' to the brave. 

 The line relieved, somewhat, of steady strain. 

 Outwits the wily bass — the hook holds fast ! 

 Now back again he falls with angry splash 

 To seek the aid of snag, or root of tree; 

 For thus, my friend, he oft escapes, I trow. 

 By fouling line or hook — 



He never sulks! 

 Not he; while life remains, or strength holds good. 

 His efforts never cease. Now up the stream — 

 Now down again — • I have him well in hand. 

 Now reeling, in, or erstM'hile giving line; 

 He swims now fast or slow — now high or low. 

 The steady strain is still maintained, you see! 

 The good rod swaying like a wind-blown rush — 

 He surges thro' the flood. 



Anothei- leap! 

 Ye Gods! How like an angry beast he shakes 

 His bristling mane, and dives below again! 

 And did you mark, my friend, his shrewd intent. 

 As when he fell upon the slacken'd line? 

 If then he'd found it stretched and taut, I ween. 

 He would have made his safe and svire escape. 

 But haply then the tip was slightly lowered — 

 And so, with yielding line, the hook held fast. 

 Now truly, friend, he makes a gallant fight! 

 In air or water — all the same to him — 

 His spiny crest erect; he struggles still. 

 No sulking here! but like a mettl'd steed 

 He champs the bit, and ever speeds the best 

 With firm-held, tighten'd rein. 



He's off again! 

 Now down the stream he flashes like a shaft 

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

 33 



