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If the lawn'd Levite's earthly vote be sold,
And God's free gift retail'd for Mammon gold;
No rev'rence can the proud cathedral claim,
But Henley's shop, and Sherlock's, are the same.
Whence have St. Stephen's walls so hallow'd
been?

Whence? From the virtue of his sons within.
But should some guileful serpent, void of grace,
Glide in its bounds, and poison all the place;
Should e'er the sacred voice be set to sale,
And o'er the heart the golden fruit prevail;
The place is alter'd, sir; nor think it strange
To see the senate sink into a change.

Or court, or church, or senate-house, or hall,
Manners alone beam dignity on all.
Without their influence, palaces are cells;
Crane-court, a magazine of cockle-shells;
The solemn bench no bosom strikes with awe,
But Westminster's a warehouse of the law.

These honest truths, my lord, deny who can ;
Since all allow that " Manners make the man."
Hence only glories to the great belong,
Or peers must mingle with the peasant throng.
Though strung with ribbands, yet behold his
Shines but a lacquey in a higher place! [grace
Strip the gay liv'ry from the courtier's back,
What marks the diffrence 'twixt my lord andJack?
The same mean, supple, mercenary knave,
The tool of power, and of state the slave:
Alike the vassal heart in each prevails,
And all his lordship boasts is larger vales.
Wealth, manors, titles, may descend, 'tis true;
But ev'ry heir must merit's claim renew.

Who blushes not to see a Cheir Turn slave to sound, and languish for a play'r3? What piping, fidling, squeaking, quav'ring, brawling!

What sing-song riot,and what eunuch-squawling!
C, thy worth all Italy shall own,

A statesman fit, where Nero fill'd the throne.
See poor Lævinus, anxious for renown,
Through the long gallery trace his lineage down,
And claim each hero's visage for his own.
What though in each the self same features shine,
Unless some lineal virtue marks the line,
In vain, alas! he boasts his grandsire's name,
Or hopes to borrow lustre of his fame.

Who but must smile, to see the tim'rous peer
Point 'mong his race our bulwark in the war?
Or in sad English tell how senates hung
On the sweet music of his father's tongue?
Unconscious, though his sires were wise and brave,
Their virtues only find in him a grave.

Not so with Stanhopes; see by him sustain'd
Each hoary honour which his sires had gain'd.
To him the virtues of his race appear
The precious portion of five hundred year;
Descended down, by him to be enjoy'd,
Yet holds the talent lost, if unemploy'd.
From hence behold his gen'rous ardour rise,
To swell the sacred stream with fresh supplies:

The Royal Society.

3 That extraordinary instance of the folly, extravagance, and depravity of the English, Farinello.

A Roman emperor remarkable for his passion for music.

5 The right honourable the earl of Chesterfield.

Abroad, the guardian of his country's cause;
At home, a Tully to defend her laws.
Senates with awe the patriot sounds imbibe,
And bold corruption almost drops the bribe.
Thus added worth to worth, and grace to grace,
He beams new glories back upon his race.

Ask ye, what's honour? I'll the truth impart.
Know, honour, then, is honesty of heart.
To the sweet scenes of social Stow 6 repair,
And search the master's breast,-you'll find it
there.

Too proud to grace the sycophant or slave,
It only harbours with the wise and brave;
Ungain'd by titles, places, wealth, or birth:
Learn this, and learn to blush, ye sons of Earth!
Blush to behold this ray of nature made
The victim of a ribbond, or cockade.

Ask the proud peer, what's honour? he dis plays

A purchas'd patent, or the herald's blaze;
Or, if the royal smile his hopes has blest,
Points to the glitt'ring glory on his breast:
Yet, if beneath no real virtue reign,
On the gay coat the star is but a stain:
For I could whisper in his lordship's ear,
Worth only beams true radiance on the star,

Hence see the garter'd glory dart its rays,
And shine round Ewith redoubled blaze:
Ask ye from whence this flood of lustre's seen?
Why E-whispers, votes, and saw Turin.

[sad

Long Milo reign'd the minion of renown; Loud his eulogiums echo'd through the town: Where'er he went,still crowds around him throng. And hail'd the patriot as he pass'd along. See the lost peer, unhonour'd now by all, Steal through the street, or skulk along the Mall; Applauding sounds no more salute his ear, But the loud Pan's sunk into a sneer. Whence, you'll inquire, could spring a change so Why, the poor man ran military mad; By this mistaken maxim still misled, That men of honour must be cloth'd in red. My grandsire wore it, Milo cries-'tis good; But know, the grandsire stain'd it red with blood. First 'midst the deathful dangers of the field, He shone his country's guardian, and its shield; Taught Danube's stream with Gallic gore to flow; Hence bloom'd the laurel on the grandsire's brow; But shall the son expect the wreath to wear, For the mock triumphs of an Hyde park war? Sooner shall Bunhill, Blenheim's glories claim, Or Billers rival brave Eugene in faine; Sooner a like reward their labours crown, Who storm a dunghill, and who sack a town. Mark our bright youths, how gallant and how gay,

[pay,

Fresh plum'd and powder'd in review array.
Unspoil'd each feature by the martial scar,
Lo! A assumes the god of war:
Yet vain, while prompt to arms by plume and
He claims the soldier's name from soldier's play.
This truth, my warrior, treasure in thy breast;
A standing soldier is a standing jest.
When bloody battles dwindle to reviews,
Armies must then descend to puppet-shews;
Where the lac'd log may strut the soldier's part,
Bedeck'd with feather, though unarm'd with heart

The seat of the right honourable the lord. viscount Cobham.

There are who say, "You lash the sins of men!
Leave, leave to Pope the poignance of the pen;
Hope not the bays shall wreath around thy head;
Fannius may write, but Flaccus will be read."
Shall only one have privilege to blaine?
What then, are vice and folly royal game?
Must all be poachers who attempt to kill?
All, but the mighty sovereign of the quill?
Shall Pope, alone, the plenteous harvest have,
And I not glean one straggling fool, or knave?
Praise, 'tis allow'd, is free to all mankind;
Say, why should honest satire be confin'd?
Though, like th' immortal bard's, my feeble dart
Stains not its feather in the culprit heart;
Yet know, the smallest insect of the wing
The horse may tease, or elephant can sting:
Ev'n I, by chance, some lucky darts may show'r,
And gall some great leviathans of pow'r.

I name not Walpole; you the reason guess;
Mark yon fell harpy hov'ring o'er the press.
Secure the Muse may sport with names of kings;
But ministers, my friend, are dang'rous things.
Who would have Paxton 7 answer what he writ;
Or special juries, judges of his wit?

A mitre may repay his heav'nly crown,
And, while he decks her brow, adorn his ow

Let laureat Cibber birth-day sonnets sing,
Or Fanny crawl, an ear-wig on the king:
While one is void of wit, and one of grace,
Why should I envy either song or place?
I could not flatter, the rich butt to gain;
Nor sink a slave, to rise vice chamberlain.

Perish my verse! whene'er one venal line
Bedaubs a duke, or makes a king divine.
First bid me swear, he's sound who has the
plague,

Or Horace rivals Stanhope at the Hague.
What, shall I turn a pander to the throne,
And list with B-l's 10 to roar for half-a-crown?
Sooner T-r- shall with Tully vie,

| Or W-n-n in senate scorn a lie;
Sooner Iberia tremble for her fate

From M- -h's arms, or Abn's debate.
Though fawning flatt'ry ne'er shall taint my
lays,

Yet know, when virtue calls, I burst to praise.
Behold yon temple " rais'd by Cobham's hand,
Sacred to worthies of his native land:

Fope writes unhurt-but know, 'tis diff'rent Ages were ransack'd for the wise and great,

quite

To beard the lion, and to crush the mite.
Safe may he dash the statesman in each line;
Those dread his satire, who dare punish mine.
"Turn, turn your satire then," you cry,
praise."

"to

Why praise is satire, in these sinful days.
Say, should I make a patriot of sir Bill,
Or swear that G's duke has wit at will;
From the gull'd knight could I expect a place,
Or hope to lie a dinner from his grace,
Though a reward be graciously bestow'd
On the soft satire of each birth-day ode?

The good and bad alike with praise are blest;
Yet those who merit most, still want it least:
But conscious vice still courts the cheering ray,
While virtue shines, nor asks the glare of day.
Need I to any, Pult'ney's worth declare?
Or tell him Carteret charms, who has an ear?
Or, Pitt, can thy example be unknown,
While each fond father marks it to his son?
I cannot truckle to a slave in state,
And praise a blockhead's wit, because he's great:
Down, down, ye hungry garretteers, descend,
Call Walpole 8 Burleigh, call him Britain's friend;
Behold the genial ray of gold appear,
And rouse, ye swarms of Grub-street and Rag-fair.
See with what zeal yon tiny insect 9 burns,
And follows queens from palaces to urns:
Though cruel death has clos'd the royal ear,
That flatt'ring fly still buzzes round the bier:
But what avails, since queens no longer live?
Why, kings can read, and kings, you know, may
give.

7 A famous solicitor.

See these two characters compared in the Gazetteers; but, lest none of those papers should have escaped their common fate, see the two characters distinguished in the Craftsman.

9 Dr. Alured Clarke, who wrote, or rather stole, a character of the late queen from Dr. Burnet's character of queen Mary. This pamphlet, however, has been ascribed to lord Hervey.

Till Barnard came, and made the groupe com

plete.

Be Barnard there-enliven'd by the voice,
Each busto bow'd, and sanctify'd the choice.
Pointless all satire in these iron times;
Too faint are colours, and too feeble rhymes.
Rise then, gay fancy, future glories bring,
And stretch o'er happier days thy healing wing.
Rapt into thought, lo! I Britannia see
Rising superior o'er the subject sea;
View her gay pendents spread their silken wings,
Big with the fate of empires, and of kings:
The tow'ring barks dance lightly o'er the main,
And roll their thunder thro' the realms of Spain.
Peace, violated maid, they ask no more,
But waft her back triumphant to our shore;
While buxom Plenty, laughing in her train,
Glads ev'ry heart, and crowns the warrior's pain.
On, fancy, on! still stretch the pleasing scene,
And bring fair freedom with her golden reign;
Cheer'd by whose beams ev'n meagre want can
smile,

And the poor peasant whistle 'midst his toil.

Such days, what Briton wishes not to see? And such each Briton, Frederic 12, hopes from thee.

1o A noted agent in a mob-regiment, who is employed to reward their venal vociferations, on certain occasions, with half-a-crown each man.

dens at Stow, in which the lord Cobhain has "The Temple of British Worthies in the gar lately erected the busto of sir John Baruard.

La The father of George the Third.

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TO THE MOST PUISSANT AND INVINCIBLE
MR. JOHN BROUGHTON.

HAD this dedication been addressed to some reverend prelate, or female court-favourite, to some blundering statesman, or apostate patriot, I should doubtless have lanched into the highest encomiums on public spirit, policy, virtue, piety, &c. and, like the rest of my brother dedicators, had most successfully imposed on their vanity, by ascribing to them qualities they were utterly unacquainted with; by which means I had prudently reaped the reward of a panegyrist from my patron, and, at the same time, secured the reputation of a satirist with the public.

But scoring these base arts, I present the following poem to you, unswayed by either flattery or interest; since your modesty would defend you against the poison of the one, and your known economy prevent an author's expectations of the other. I shall therefore only tell you, what you really are, and leave those (whose patrons are of the higher class) to tell them what they really are not. But such is the depravity of human nature, that every compliment we bestow on another is too apt to be deemed a satire on ourselves; yet surely, while I am praising the strength of your arm, no politician can think it meant as a reflection on the weakness of his head; or, while I am justifying your title to the character of a man, will any modern petit-maître think it an impeachment of his affinity to that of its mimic counterfeit, a monkey?

SCRIBLERUS TERTIUS OF THE POEM.

IT is an old saying, that necessity is the mother of invention: it should seem then that poetry, which is a species of invention, must naturally derive its being from the same origin: hence it will be easy to account for the many flimsy ghost-like apparitions, that every day make their appearance among us; for if it be true, as naturalists observe, that the health and vigour of the mother is necessary to produce the like qualities in the child, what issue can be expected from the womb of so meagre a parent?

But there is another species of poetry, which, instead of owing its birth to the belly, like Minerva springs at once from the head: of this kind are those productions of wit, sense, and spirit, which once born, like the goddess herself, immediately become immortal. It is true, these are a sort of miraculous births, and therefore it is no wonder they should be found so rare among us.-As glory is the noble inspirer of the latter, so hunger is the natural incentive of the former: thus fame and food are the spurs with which every poet mounts his Pegasus; but, as the impetus of the belly is apt to be more cogent than that of the head, so you will ever see the one pricking and goading a tired jade to a hobbling trot, while the other only incites the foaming steed to a majestic capriol.

The gentle reader, it is apprehended, will not long be at a loss to determine, which species the following production ought to be ranked under: but as the parent most unnaturally cast it out as the spurious issue of his brain, and even cruelly denies it the common privilege of his name; struck with the delectable beauty of its features, I could not avoid adopting the little poetic orphan, and by dressing it up with a few notes, &c. present it to the public as perfect as possible.

Had I, in imitation of other great authors, only consulted my interest in the publication of this inimitable piece, (which doubtless will undergo numerous impressious) I might first have sent it into the world naked, then, by the addition of a commentary, notes varioruin, prolegomena, and all that, levied a new tax upon the public; and after all, by a sort of modern poet

Were I to attempt a description of your qualifications, I might justly have recourse to the majesty of Agamemnon, the courage of Achilles, the strength of Ajax, and the wisdom of Ulysses; but, as your own heroic actions afford us the best mirror of your merits, I shall leave the reader to view in that the amazing lustre of a character, a few traits of which only, the following poemical legerdemain, changing the name of the prin was intended to display; and in which, had the ability of the poet equalled the magnanimity of his hero, I doubt not but the Gymnasiad had, like the immortal Iliad, been handed down to the admiration of all posterity.

As your superior merits contributed towards raising you to the dignities you now enjoy, and placed you even as the safe-guard of royalty itself, so I cannot help thinking it happy for the prince, that he is now able to boast one real champion in his service: and what Frenchman would not tremble more at the puissant arm of a Broughton, than at the ceremonious gauntlet of a Dimmack?

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cipal hero, and inserting a few hypercritics of a flattering friend's, have rendered the former editions incorrect, and cozened the curious reader out of a treble consideration for the same work; but however this may suit the tricking arts of a bookseller, it is certainly much below the sublime genius of an author.-I know it will be said, that a man has an equal right to make as much as he can of his wit, as well as of his money: but then it ought to be considered, whether there may not be such a thing as usury in both; and the law having only provided against it in one instance, is, I apprehend, no very moral plea for the practice of it in the other 1.

1 As this may be thought to be particularly aimed at an author who was lately reported to be dead, and whose loss all lovers of the muses

The judicious reader will easily perceive, that the following poem in all its properties partakes of the epic; such as fighting, speeching, bullying, ranting, &c. (to say nothing of the moral) and, as many thousand verses are thought necessary to the construction of this kind of poem, it may be objected, that this is too short to be ranked under that class: to which I will only answer, that as conciseness is the last fault a writer is apt to commit, so it is generally the first a reader is willing to forgive; and though it may not be altogether so long, yet I dare say, it will not be found less replete with the true vis poetica, than (not to mention the Iliad, Æneid, &c.) even Leonidas itself.

It may farther be objected, that the characters of our principal heroes are too humble for the grandeur of the epic fable; but the candid reader will be pleased to observe, that they are not here celebrated in their mechanic, but in their heroic capacities, as boxers, who, by the ancients themselves, have ever been esteemed worthy to be immortalized in the noblest works of this nature; of which the Epëus and Euryalus of Homer, and the Entellus and Dares of Virgil, are incontestable authorities. And as those authors were ever careful, that their principal personages (however mean in themselves) should derive their pedigree from some deity, or illustrious hero, so our author has with equal propriety made his spring from Phaeton and Neptune; under which characters he beautifully allegorises their different occupations of watermen and coachmen.-But for my own part, I cannot conceive, that the dignity of the hero's profession is any ways essential to that of the action; for, if the greatest persons are guilty of the meanest actions, why may not the greatest actions be ascribed to the meanest persons?

As the main action of this poem is entirely supported by the principal heroes themselves, it has been maliciously insinuated to be designed, as an unmannerly reflection on a late glorious victory, where, it is pretended, the whole action was achieved without the interposition of the principal heroes at all.-But as the most innocent meanings may by ill minds be wrested to the most wicked purposes, if any such construction should be made, I will venture to affirm, that it must proceed from the factious venom of the reader, and not from any disloyal malignity in our author, who is too well acquainted with the power, ever to arraign the purity, of government:

would have the greatest reason to lament; it may not be improper to assure the reader, that it was written, and intended to have been published, before that report, and was only meant as an attack upon the general abuse of this kind. -As to our author himself. he has frequently given public testimonies of his veneration for that great man's genius; nor may it be unentertaining to the reader, to acquaint him with one private instance :-Immediately on hearing the report of Mr. Pope's death, he was heard to break forth in the following exclamation:

Pope dead!-Hush, hush, Report, the sland'rous lie; Fame says he lives-immortals never die.

besides, the poignance of the sword is too pre valent for that of the pen; and who, when there are at present so many thousand unanswerable standing arguments ready to defend, would ever be Quixote enough to attack, either the omnipctence of a prince, or the omniscience of his ministers?

Were I to attempt an analysis of this poem, I could demonstrate that it contains (as much as a piece of so sublime a nature will admit of) all those true standards of wit, humour, raillery, satire, and ridicule, which a late writer has so marvellously discovered; and might, on the part of our author, say with that profound critic,Jacta est Alea: but as the obscurity of a beauty too strongly argues the want of one, so an endeavour to elucidate the merits of the following performance, might be apt to give the reader a disadvantageous impression against it, as it might tacitly imply they were too mysterious to come within the compass of his comprehension. I shall therefore leave them to his more curious observation, and bid him heartily farewellLege & delectare. SCRIBLERUS TERTIUS.

THE GYMNASIAD. BOOK I.

ARGUMENT.

THE invocation, the proposition, the night before the battle described; the morning opens, and discovers the multitude hasting to the place of action; their various professions, dignities, &c. illustrated; the spectators being seated, the youthful combatants are first introduced; their manner of fighting displayed; to these succeed the champions of a higher degree; their superior abilities marked, some of the most eminent particularly celebrated; mean while, the principal heroes are represented sitting, and ruminating on the approaching combat, when the herald summons them to the lists.

SING, sing, O Muse, the dire contested fray,
And bloody honours of that dreadful day,
When Phaeton's bold son (tremendous name)
Dar'd Neptune's offspring to the lists of fame.
What fury fraught thee with ambition's fire,
Ambition, equal foe to son and sire?
V. 3, 4. When Pharton's bold son ? It is usual

call the sons after the names of their fathers; as Dar'd Neptune's offspring for poets to son of Peleus, are frequently termed Pelides and Agamemnon the son of Atreus, and Achilles the Atrides. Our author would doubtless have followed this laudable example, but he found Broughtonides and Stephensonides, or their contractions, too unmusical for metre, and therefore with wonderful art adopts two poetical parents; which obviates the difficulty, and at the same time heightens the dignity of his heroes.

BENTLEIDES.

V. 6. Ambition, equal foe to son and sire] It has been maintained by some philosophers, that the passions of the mind are in some measure hereditary, as well as the features of the

One, hapless fell by Jove's æthereal arms,
And one, the Triton's mighty pow'r disarms.

Now all lay hush'd within the folds of night,
And saw in painted dreams th' important fight; 10
While hopes and fears alternate turn the scales,
And now this hero, and now that prevails;
Blows and imaginary blood survey,

Then waking, watch the slow approach of day;
When, lo! Aurora in her saffron vest
Darts a glad ray, and gilds the ruddy east.
Forth issuing now all ardent seek the place
Sacred to fame, and the athletic race.
As from their hive the clust'ring squadrons pour
O'er fragrant meads, to sip the vernal flow'r; 20
So from each inn the legal swarms impel,
Of banded seers, and pupils of the quill.
Senates and shambles pour forth all their store,
Mindful of mutton, and of laws no more;
E'en money-bills, uncourtly, now must wait,
And the fat lamb has one more day to bleat.
The highway knight now draws his pistol's load,
Rests his faint steed, and this day franks the road.
body. According to this doctrine, our author
very beautifully represents the frailty of ambi-
tion descending from father to son ;-and as ori-
ginal sin may in some sort be accounted for on
this system, it is very probable our author had a
theological, as well as physical, and moral mean-
ing in this verse.

For the latter part of this note we are obliged to an eminent divine.

V. 21. legal swarms impel,] An ingenious critic of my acquaintance objected to this simile, and would by no means admit the comparison between bees and lawyers to be just; one, he said, was an industrious, harmless, and useful species, none of which properties could be affirmed of the other; and therefore he thought the drone, that lives on the plunder of the hive, a more proper archetype. I must confess myself in some measure inclined to subscribe my friend's opinion; but then we must consider, that our author did not intend to describe their qualities, but their number; and in this respect no one, I think, can have any objection to the propriety of the comparison.

V. 24. and of laws no more;] The original MS. has it bribes; but, as this might seem to cast an invidious aspersion on a certain assembly, remarkable for their abhorrence of venality; and, at the same time, might subject our pub lisher to some little inconveniences; I thought it prudent to soften the expression; besides, I think this reading renders our author's thought more natural; for, though we see the most trifling avocations are able to draw off their attention from the public utility, yet nothing is sufficient to divert a steady pursuit of their private

emolument.

V. 28. this day franks the road.] Our poet here artfully insinuates the dignity of the combat he is about to celebrate, by its being able to prevail on a highwayman to lay aside his business, to become a spectator of it ;-and as, on this occasion, he makes him forsake his daily bread, while the senator only neglects the business of the nation, it may be observed, how satirically he gives the preference, in point of disinterestedness, to the bighwayman,

30

Bailiffs, in crowds, neglect the dormant writ,
And give another Sunday to the wit:
He too would hie, but ah! his fortunes frown,
Alas! the fatal passport's-half-a-crown.
Shoals press on shoals, from palace and from
cell;

Lords yield the court, and butchers Clerkenwell.
St Giles's natives, never known to fail,
All who have haply 'scap'd th' obdurate jail;
There many a martial son of Tott'nham lies,
Bound in Deveilian bands, a sacrifice

To angry justice, nor must view the prize.

Assembled myriads crowd the circling seats,40
High for the combat every bosom beats,
Each bosom partial for its hero bold,
Partial through friendship-or depending gold.

But first, the infant progeny of Mars
Join in the lists, and wage their pigmy wars;
Train'd to the manual fight, and bruiseful toil,
The stop defensive, and gymnastic foil,
With nimble fists their early prowess show,
And mark the future hero in each blow.

50

To these, the hardy iron race succeed,
All sons of Hockley and fierce Brick-street breed:
Mature in valour, and inur'd to blood,
Dauntless each foe in form terrific stood;
Their callous bodies, frequent in the fray,
Mock'd the fell stroke, nor to its force gave.

way.

'Mongst these Gloverius, not the last in fame,
And he whose clog delights the beauteous dame;
Nor least thy praise, whose artificial light,
In Dian's absence, gilds the clouds of night.

V. 37. There many a martial son, &c.] The unwary reader may from this passage be apt to conclude, that an amphitheatre is little better than a nursery for the gallows, and that there is a sort of physical connection between boxing and thieving; but although boxing may be a useful ingredient in a thief, yet it does not necessarily make him one. Boxing is the effect, not the cause; and men are not thieves because they are boxers, but boxers because they are thieves. Thus tricking, lying, evasion, with several other such-like cardinal virtues, are a sort of properties pertaining to the practice of the law, as well as to the mercurial profession. But would any one therefore infer, that every lawyer must be a thief? SCHOLIAST,

V. 44. infant progeny of Mars] Our author in this description alludes to the Lusus Troja of Virgil,

Incedunt pueri

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--Troja juventus
-Pugnæque ciunt simulachra sub armis.
V. 51, Hockley and fierce Brick-street breed]
Two famous athletic seminaries.

V. 57. And he whose clog, &c.] Here we aro presented with a laudable imitation of the ancient simplicity of manners; for, as Cincinnatus disdained not the homely employment of a ploughman, so we see our hero condescending to the humble occupation of a clog-maker; and this is the more to be admired, as it is one characteristic of modern heroism, to be either above or below any occupation at all.

V. 58. whose artificial light,] Various and violent have been the controversies, whether our

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