388 A FABLE FOR PLAGIARISTS. 



that the Tartane appeared almost by magic to spread its latine sails 

 to the wind. 



The two luggers continued to approach on either side ; the nearest 

 was already within cannon-shot, when the Tartane, putting rapidly 

 about, passed intrepidly between her pursuers ; then hauling close up, 

 bore for the promontory of La Torre. This skilful manoeuvre could 

 only have been executed with as fine a sailing vessel as the Tartane 

 really was, and displayed at the same time the clever seamanship of 

 the rover ; had he attempted it sooner, the Tartane must almost 

 inevitably have been intercepted by the second lugger. 



Again the shrill whistle of the Gitano was heard, and the three 

 starboard brass guns bore upon the approaching lugger : the next 

 instant the messengers of destruction were glancing over the waters. 



The Gitano fixed his glass upon the guarda-costa, and a smile of 

 triumph lighted his countenance as he beheld her foresail falling to 

 the deck. 



At another signal the guns were run in, and again made fast ; and 

 before the heavy Spaniard could replace his disabled sail, the Tartane 

 had again tacked, and, rounding the point, disappeared from the view 

 of her disappointed pursuers. 



END OF CHAPTER I. 



A FABLE FOR PLAGIARISTS. 



A TURKEY, who with sorrow knew 

 How heavily her children flew, 

 Resolv'd to have some lighter sons, 

 Though they should all be bastard ones ; 

 To gain this end she sallied out, 

 And robb'd the birds that built about ; 

 Hawk pigeon goldfinch large and small 

 She sought, and pilfer'd eggs from all ; 

 From birds of ev'ry form and feather, 

 And in her nest mixed all together. 

 Long did she sit, and no small portion 

 Perish'd by addling and abortion ; 

 The others, bursting from the shell, 

 Soon like their sires flew strong and well. 

 The turkey, with the brood delighted, 

 Hundreds of neighbouring birds invited 

 T' admire this covey of her rearing ; 

 But, on the young birds first appearing, 

 Each father quickly claim'd his own, 

 Flew off, and left the thief alone ! 



Robbers from others' works, who dare 

 To publish what you steal, beware 

 Some author will, at every line, 

 Be heard exclaiming, " This is mine," 

 Till of your spurious brood bereft, 

 Your're, like the turkey, childless left. 



