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John Dren, an agreeable poet, was the son of His health being now in a delicate state, he was a solicitor at Aberglasney, in Carmarthenshire, advised by his friends to take orders; and he was where he was born in 1700. He was brought up accordingly ordained by Dr. Thomas, Bishop of at Westminster-school, and was designed by his Lincoln; and, entering into the married state, he father for his own profession; but being at liberty, sat down on a small living in Leicestershire. This in consequence of his father's death, to follow his he exchanged for one in Lincolnshire ; but the own inclination, he indulged what he took for a fenny country in which he was placed did not natural taste in painting, and entered as pupil to agree with his health, and he complained of the Mr. Richardson. After wandering for some time want of books and company. In 1757, he pubabout South Wales and the adjacent counties as an lished his largest work, “ The Fleece," a didactic itinerant artist, he appeared convinced that he should poem, in four books, of which the first part is pasnot attain to eminence in that profession. In 1727, toral, the second mechanical, the third and fourth he first made himself known as a poet, by the publi- historical and geographical. This poem has never cation of his “ Grongar Hill,” descriptive of a been very popular, many of its topics not being scene afforded by his native country, which became well adapted to poetry; yet the opinions of critics one of the most popular pieces of its class, and has have varied concerning it. It is certain that there been admitted into numerous coliections. Dyer are many pleasing, and some grand and impressive then travelled to Italy, still in pursuit of profes passages in the work; but, upon the whole, the gesional improvement; and if he did not acquire this neral feeling is, that the length of the performance in

any considerable degree, he improved his poeti- necessarily imposed upon it a degree of tediouscal taste, and laid in a store of new images. These ness. he displayed in a poem of some length, published Dyer did not long survive the completion of his in 1740, which he entitled “The Ruins of Rome," book. He died of a gradual decline in 1758, leavthat capital having been the principal object of his ing behind him, besides the reputation of an ingejourneyings. Of this work it may be said, that it nious poet, the character of an honest, humane, and contains many passages of real poetry, and that the worthy person. strain of moral and political reflection denotes a benevolent and enlightened mind.


Silent nymph, with curious eye!
Who, the purple evening, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man;
Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet sings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale;
Come, with all thy various dues,
Come and aid thy sister Muse;
Now, while Phoebus riding high,
Gives lustre to the land and sky!
Grongar Hill invites my song,
Draw the landscape bright and strong;
Grongar, in whose mossy cells
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells ; '
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,

So oft I have, the evening still,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sate upon a flowery bed,
With my hand beneath my head;
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead and over wood,
From house to house, from hill to hill,
Till Contemplation had her fill.

About his chequer'd sides I wind,
And leave his brooks and meads behind,
And groves, and grottoes where I lay,
And vistas shooting beams of day:
Wide and wider spreads the vale,
As circles on a smooth canal:
The mountains round, unhappy fate!
Sooner or later, of all height,
Withdraw their summits from the skies,
And lessen as the others rise :
Still the prospect wider spreads,
Adds a thousand woods and meads;
Still it widens, widens still,
And sinks the newly-risen hill.

Now, I gain the mountain's brow,

The town and village, dome and farm, What a landscape lies below!

Each give each a double charm, No clouds, no vapours intervene ;

As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm. But the gay, the open scene

See on the mountain's southern side, Does the face of Nature show,

Where the prospect opens wide, In all the hues of Heaven's bow!

Where the evening gilds the tide; And, swelling to embrace the light,

How close and small the hedges lie! Spreads around beneath the sight.

What streaks of meadows cross the eye! Old castles on the cliffs arise,

A step methinks may pass the stream, Proudly towering in the skies!

So little distant dangers seem; Rushing from the woods, the spires

So we mistake the Future's face, Seem from hence ascending fires !

Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass; Half his beams Apollo sheds

As yon summits soft and fair, On the yellow mountain-heads !

Clad in colours of the air, Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,

Which to those who journey near, And glitters on the broken rocks!

Barren, brown, and rough appear ; Below me trees unnumber'd rise,

Still we tread the same coarse way, Beautiful in various dyes :

The present 's still a cloudy day. The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,

O may I with myself agree, The yellow beech, the sable yew,

And never covet what I see; The slender fir that taper grows,

Content me with an humble shade, The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs. My passions tam'd, my wishes laid ; And beyond the purple grove,

For, while our wishes wildly roll, Haunt of Phyllis, queen of love!

We banish quiet from the soul : Gaudy as the opening dawn,

'T is thus the busy beat the air, Lies a long and level lawn,

And misers gather wealth and care. On which a dark hill, steep and high,

Now, ev'n now, my joys run high, Holds and charms the wandering eye!

As on the mountain-turf I lie ; Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,

While the wanton Zephyr sings, His sides are cloth'd with waving wood,

And in the vale perfumes his wings; And ancient towers crown his brow,

While the waters murmur deep; That cast an aweful look below;

While the shepherd charms his sheep; Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,

While the birds unbounded fly, And with her arms from falling keeps ;

And with music fill the sky, So both a safety from the wind

Now, e'en now, my joys run high. On mutual dependence find.

Be full, ye courts; be great who will; 'T is now th' raven's bleak abode;

Search for Peace with all your skill : 'Tis now the apartment of the toad;

Open wide the lofty door, And there the fox securely feeds;

Seek her on the marble floor. And there the poisonous adder breeds,

In vain you search, she is not there; Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds;

In vain ye search the domes of Care ! While, ever and anon, there falls

Grass and flowers Quiet treads, Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls.

On the meads, and mountain-heads, Yet Time has seen, that lifts the low,

Along with Pleasure, close ally'd, And level lays the lofty brow,

Ever by each other's side : Has seen this broken pile complete,

And often, by the murmuring rill, Big with the vanity of state ;

Hears the thrush, while all is still,
But transient is the smile of Fate !

Within the groves of Grongar Hill.
A little rule, a little sway,
A sun-beam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.

And see the rivers how they run,
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun,

Aspice murorum moles, præruptaque saxa,
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,

Obrutaque horrenti vesta theatra situ :

Hæc sunt Roma. Wave succeeding wave, they go

Viden’velut ipsa cadavera tants A various journey to the deep,

Urbis adhuc spirent imperiosa minas? Like human life, to endless sleep !

JANUS VALI Thus is Nature's vesture wrought, !

Enough of Grongar, and the shady dales To instruct our wandering thought;

Of winding Towy: Merlin's fabled haunt Thus she dresses green and gay,

I sing inglorious. Now the love of arts, To disperse our cares away.

And what in metal or in stone remains Ever charming, ever new,

Of proud antiquity, through various realms When will the landscape tire the view! And various languages and ages fam'd, The fountain's fall, the river's flow,

Bears me remote, o'er Gallia's woody bounds The woody valleys, warm and low;

O'er the cloud-piercing Alps remote; beyond The windy summit, wild and high,

The vale of Arno purpled with the vine, Roughly rushing on the sky!

Beyond the Umbrian and Etruscan hills, The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tower,

To Latium's wide champain, forlorn and waste, The naked rock, the shady bower ;

Where yellow Tiber his neglected wave

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* Mournfully rolls. Yet once again, my Muse, And intermingling vines; and figur'd nymphs, ( Yet once again, and soar a loftier flight ;

Floras and Chloes of delicious mould, PitLo the resistless theme, imperial Rome.

Cheering the darkness ; and deep empty tombs, Fall'n, fall’n, a silent heap; her heroes all And dells, and mouldering shrines, with old decay Ev Sunk in their urns ; behold the pride of pomp, Rustic and green, and wide-embowering shades, ** The throne of nations fall'n ; obscur'd in dust; Shot from the crooked elefts of nodding towers. te berei E'en yet majestical : the solemn scene

A solemn wilderness! with errour sweet, Elates the soul, while now the rising Sun

I wind the lingering step, where'er the path ti Flames on the ruins in the purer air

Mazy conducts me, which the vulgar foot Sk Towering aloft, upon the glittering plain,

O'er sculptures maim'd has made ; Anubis, Sphinx, I Like broken rocks, a vast circumference :

Idols of antique guise, and horned Pan, zno Rent palaces, crush'd columns, rifled moles, Terrific, monstrous shapes ! preposterous gods de Fanes rollid on fanes, and tombs on buried tombs. Of Fear and Ignorance, by the sculptor's hand Deep lies in dust the Theban obelisk

Hewn into form, and worshipp'd; as e'en now Immense along the waste ; minuter art,

Blindly they worship at their breathless mouths + on Gliconian forms, or Phidian subtly fair,

In varied appellations : men to these O'erwhelming; as th' immense Leviathan

(From depth to depth in darkening errour fall’n) els The finny brood, when near lerne's shore

At length ascrib'd th' inapplicable name. Outstretch'd, unwieldy, his island-length appears

How doth it please and fill the memory De Above the foamy flood. Globose and huge, With deeds of brave renown, while on each hand este Gray mouldering temples swell, and wide o'ercast Historic urns and breathing statues rise, tot: The solitary landscape, hills and woods,

And-speaking busts ! Sweet Scipio, Marius stern, And boundless wilds ; while the vine-mantled brows Pompey superb, the spirit-stirring form The pendent goats unveil, regardless they

Of Cæsar raptur'd with the charm of rule Of hourly peril, though the clefted domes

And boundless fame ; impatient for exploits, Tremble to every wind. The pilgrim oft

His eager eyes upcast, he soars in thought 3: At dead of night, 'mid his orison hears

Above all height: and his own Brutus see, 14 Aghast the voice of Time, disparting towers, Desponding Brutus, dubious of the right, Tumbling all precipitate down-dash'd,

In evil days, of faith, of public weal, Rattling around, loud thundering to the Moon; Solicitous and sad. Thy next regard While murmurs soothe each awful interval Be Tully's graceful attitude ; unprais'd, Of ever-falling waters; shrouded Nile,

His outstretch'd arm he waves, in act to speak Eridanus, and Tiber with his twins,

Before the silent masters of the world, And palmy Euphrates *; they with drooping locks And Eloquence arrays

him. There behold, Hang o'er their urns, and mournfully among Prepar'd for combat in the front of war, The plaintive-echoing ruins pour their streams. The pious brothers; jealous Alba stands

Yet here, adventurous in the sacred seareh In fearful expectation of the strife,
Of ancient arts, the delicate of mind,

And youthful Rome intent: the kindred foes . Curious and modest, from all climes resort. Fall on each other's neck in silent tears; Grateful society! with these I raise

In sorrowful benevolence embrace The toilsome step up the proud Palatin,

Howe'er, they soon unsheath the flashing sword, Through spiry cypress groves, and towering pine, Their country calls to arms; - now all in vaip Waving aloft o'er the big ruin's brows,

The mother clasps the knee, and e'en the fair
On numerous arches rear'd: and frequent stopp'd, Now weeps in vain; their country calls to arms.

The sunk ground startles me with dreadful chasm, Such virtue Clelia, Coeles, Manlius, rous'd :
Breathing forth darkness from the vast profound Such were the Fabii, Decii; so inspir'd,
Of aisles and halls, within the mountain's womb. The Scipios battled, and the Gracehi spoke :
Nor these the nether works; all these beneath, So rose the Roman state. Me now, of these
Ind all beneath the vales and hills around,

Deep musing, high ambitious thoughts inflame Extend the cavern'd sewers, massy, firm,

Greatly to serve my country, distant land, Is the Sibylline grot beside the dead

And build me virtuous fame ; nor shall the dust sake of Avernus; such the sewers huge,

Of these fall'n piles with show of sad decay
Whither the great Tarquinian genius dooms Avert the good resolve, mean argument,
Sach wave impure ; and proud with added rains, The fate alone of matter. - Now the brow

lark how the mighty billows lash their vaults, We gain enraptur’d; beauteously distinct | suis und thunder ; how they heave their rocks in vain! The numerous porticoes and domes upswell

, hough now incessant time has rollid around With obelisks and columns interpos'd, pi thousand winters o'er the changeful world, And pine, and fir, and oak: so fair a scene ind yet a thousand since, th' indignant floods Sees not the dervise from the spiral tomb Roar loud in their firm bounds, and dash and swell, Of ancient Chammos, while his eye beholds n vain ; convey'd to Tiber's lowest wave. Proud Memphis' reliques o'er th' Egyptian plain : Hence over airy plains, by crystal founts, Nor hoary hermit from Hymettus' brow, hat weave their glittering waves with tuneful lapse, Though graceful Athens in the vale beneath. Imong the sleeky pebbles, agate clear,

Along the windings of the Muse's stream, erulean ophite, and the flowery vein

Lucid Illyssus weeps her silent schools, f orient jasper, pleas'd I move along, ** 'Ind vases boss'd, and huge inscriptive stones, + Several statues of the Pagan gods have been

converted into images of saints. Fountains at Rome adorned with the statues From the Palatin hill one sees most of the rethose rivers.

markable antiquities.

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And groves, unvisited by bard or sage.

Parent of Happiness, celestial-born ; Amid the towery ruins, huge, supreme,

When the first man became a living soul, Th' enormous amphitheatre behold,

His sacred genius thou ; — be Britain's care; Mountainous pile! o'er whose capacious womb With her, secure, prolong thy lov'd retreat ; Pours the broad firmament its varied light ; Thence bless mankind; while yet among her sons While from the central floor the seats ascend E'en yet there are, to shield thine equal laws, Round above round, slow-widening to the verge

Whose bosoms kindle at the sacred names
A circuit vast and high; nor less had held Of Cecil, Raleigh, Walsingham, and Drake.
Imperial Rome, and her attendant realms,

May others more delight in tuneful airs; When drunk with rule she will'd the fierce delight, In masque and dance excel; to sculptur'd stone And op'd the gloomy caverns, whence out-rush'd Give with superior skill the living look ; Before th' innumerable shouting crowd

More pompous piles erect, or pencil soft The fiery, madded, tyrants of the wilds,

With warmer touch the visionary board :
Lions and tygers, wolves and elephants,

But thou, thy nobler Britons teach to rule;
And desperate men, more fell. Abhorr'd intent! To check the ravage of tyrannic sway;
By frequent converse with familiar death,

To quell the proud; to spread the joys of peace, To kindle brutal daring apt for war ;

And various blessings of ingenious trade. To lock the breast, and steel th' obdurate heart Be these our arts; and ever may we guard, Amid the piercing cries of sore distress

Ever defend thee with undaunted heart! Impenetrable. — But away thine eye ;

Inestimable good! who giv'st us Truth, Behold yon steepy cliff; the mordern pile

Whose hand upleads to light, divinest Truth, Perchance may now delight, while that , rever'd Array'd in every charm : whose hand benign In ancient days, the page alone declares,

Teaches unwearied Toil to clothe the fields, Or narrow coin through dim cerulean rust. And on his various fruits inscribes the name The fane was Jove's, its spacious golden roof, Of Property : O nobly hail'd of old O'er thick-surrounding temples beaming wide, By thy majestic daughters, Judah fair, Appear'd, as when above the morning hills And Tyrus and Sidonia, lovely nymphs, Half the round Sun ascends; and tower'd aloft, And Libya bright, and all-enchanting Greece, Sustain'd by columns huge, innumerous

Whose numerous towns and isles, and peopled season As cedars proud on Canaan's verdant heights Rejoic'd around her lyre; th' heroic note Darkening their idols, when Astarte lur'd

(Smit with sublime delight) Ausonia caught, Too-prosperous Israel from his living strength. And plann'd imperial Rome. Thy hand benign And next regard yon venerable dome,

Rear'd up her towery battlements in strength; Which virtuous Latium, with erroneous aim, Bent her wide bridges o'er the swelling stream Rais'd to her various deities, and nam'd

Of Tuscan Tiber; thine those solemn domes Pantheon ; plain and round; of this our world Devoted to the voice of humbler prayer ! Majestic emblem ; with peculiar grace

And thine those piles | undeck'd, capacious, fast, Before its ample orb, projected stands

In days of dearth where tender Charity The many-pillar'd portal : noblest work

Dispens'd her timely succours to the poor. Of human skill : here, curious architect,

Thine too those musically falling founts, If thou essay'st, ambitious, to surpass

To slake the clammy lip; adown they fall, Palladius, Angelus, or British Jones,

Musical ever ; while from yon blue hills

On these fair walls extend the certain scale, Dim in the clouds, the radiant aqueducts
And turn th' instructive compass : careful mark Turn their innumerable arches o'er
How far in hidden art, the noble plain

The spacious desert, brightening in the Sun, Extends, and where the lovely forms commence Proud and more proud in their august approach : Of Mowing sculpture : nor neglect to note High o'er irriguous vales and woods and towns, How range the taper columns, and what weight Glide the soft whispering waters in the wind, Their leafy brows sustain : fair Corinth first And here united pour their silver streams Boasted their order, which Callimachus

Among the figur'd rocks, in murmuring falls, (Reclining studious on Asopus' banks

Musical ever.

These thy beauteous works: Beneath an urn of some lamented nymph)

And what beside felicity could tell Haply compos’d; the urn with foliage curld Of human benefit: more late the rest ; Thinly conceal'd, the chapiter inform’d.

At various times their turrets chanc'd to rise, See the tall obelisks from Memphis old,

When impious Tyranny vouchsaf'd to smile

. One stone enormous each, or Thebes convey'd; Behold by Tiber's flood, where modern Rome Like Albion's spires they rush into the skies. Couches beneath the ruins : there of old And there the temple t, where the summon'd state With arms and trophies gleam'd the field of Mars: In deep of night conven'd: e'en yet methinks There to their daily sports the noble youth The vehement orator in rent attire

Rush'd emulous; to fling the pointed lance; Persuasion pours, Ambition sinks her crest; To vault the steed; or with the kindling wheel And lo the villain, like a troubled sea,

In dusty whirlwinds sweep the trembling goal; That tosses up her mire! Ever disguis'd,

Or, wrestling, cope with adverse swelling breasts Shall Treason walk? Shall proud

Oppression yoke Strong grappling arms, close heads, and distant fert The neck of Virtue? Lo the wretch, abash'd, Or clash the lifted gauntlets : there they form'd Self-betray'd Catiline! O Liberty,

Their ardent virtues : in the bossy piles, • The Capitol.

The public granaries. + The Temple of Concord, where the senate met $ Modern Rome stands chiefly on the old Caron Catiline's conspiracy.

pus Martius.

The proud triumphal arches; all their wars, Where Cæsars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie,
Their conquests, honours, in the sculptures live. Blended in dust together ; where the slave
And see from every gate those ancient roads, Rests from his labours; where th' insulting proud
With tombs high verg'd, the solemn paths of Fame: Resigns his power; the miser drops his hoard;
Deserve they not regard ? O'er whose broad flints Where human folly sleeps. — There is a mood,
Such crowds have roll’d, so many storms of war; (I sing not to the vacant and the young,)
So many pomps ; so many wondering realms : There is a kindly mood of melancholy,
Yet still through mountains pierc'd, o'er valleys That wings the soul, and points her to the skies;

When tribulation clothes the child of man,
In even state, to distant seas around, (Peace ", When age descends with sorrow to the grave,
They stretch their pavements. Lo, the fane of 'T is sweetly-soothing sympathy to pain,
Built by that prince, who to the trust of power A gently-wakening call to health and ease.
Was honest, the delight of human-kind.

How musical! when all-devouring Time, Three nodding aisles remain; the rest a heap Here sitting on his throne of ruins hoar, Of sand and weeds; her shrines, her radiant roofs, While winds and tempests sweep his various lyre, And columns proud, that from her spacious floor, How sweet thy diapason, Melancholy ! As from a shining sea, majestic rose

Cool evening comes ; the setting Sun displays A hundred foot aloft, like stately beech

His visible great round between yon towers, Around the brim of Dion's glassy lake,

As through two shady cliffs ; away, my Muse, Charming the mimic painter : on the walls Though yet the prospect pleases, ever new Hung Salem's sacred spoils; the golden board, In vast variety, and yet delight And golden trumpets, now conceal’d, entomb'd The many-figur'd sculptures of the path By the sunk roof. – O'er which in distant view Half beauteous, half effac'd; the traveller Th’ Etruscan mountains swell, with ruins crown'd Such antique marbles to his native land Of ancient towns; and blue Soracte spires, Oft hence conveys; and every realm and state Wrapping his sides in tempests. Eastward hence, With Rome's august remains, heroes and gods, Nigh where the Cestian pyramid + divides Deck their long galleries and winding groves ; The mouldering wall, beyond yon fabric huge, Yet miss we not th' innumerable thefts, Whose dust the solemn antiquarian turns,

Yet still profuse of graces teems the waste. And thence, in broken sculptures cast abroad, Suffice it now th’ Esquilian mount to reach Like Sibyl's leaves, collects the builder's name With weary wing, and seek the sacred rests Rejoic'd, and the green medals frequent found Of Maro's humble tenement; a low Doorn Caracalla to perpetual fame :

Plain wall remains; a little sun-gilt heap, The stately pines, that spread their branches wide Grotesque and wild ; the gourd and olive brown In the dun ruins of its ample halls †,

Weave the light roof: the gourd and olive fan Appear but tufts; as may whate'er is high Their amorous foliage, mingling with the vine, Sink in comparison, minute and vile.

Who drops her purple clusters through the green. These, and unnumber'd, yet their brows uplift, Here let me lie, with pleasing fancy sooth’d: Rent of their graces; as Britannia's oaks

Here flow'd his fountain ; here his laurels grew;
On Merlin's mount, or Snowdon's rugged sides, Here oft the meek good man, the lofty bard
Stand in the clouds, their branches scatter'd round, | Fram'd the celestial song, or social walk'd
After the tempest; Mausoleums, Cirques,

With Horace and the ruler of the world :
Naumachios, Forums; Trajan's column tall, Happy Augustus ! who, so well inspir'd,
From whose low base the sculptures wind aloft, Couldst throw thy pomps and royalties aside,
And lead through various toils, up the rough steep, Attentive to the wise, the great of soul,
Its hero to the skies: and his dark tower $

And dignify thy mind. Thrice glorious days, Whose execrable hand the city fir'd,

Auspicious to the Muses ! then rever'd, And while the dreadful conflagration blaz’d, Then hallow'd was the fount, or secret shade, Play'd to the flames; and Phæbus' letter'd dome il; Or open mountain, or whatever scene And the rough reliques of Carinæ's street, The poet chose, to tune th' ennobling rhyme Where now the shepherd to his nibbling sheep Melodious; e'en the rugged sons of war, Sits piping with his oaten reed; as erst

E'en the rude hinds rever'd the poet's name: l'here pip'd the shepherd to his nibbling sheep, But now — another age, alas! is ours When th' humble roof Anchises' son explor'd Yet will the Muse a little longer soar, Of good Evander, wealth-despising king,

Unless the clouds of care weigh down her wing, Amid the thickets : so revolves the scene;

Since Nature's stores are shut with cruel hand, jo Time ordains, who rolls the things of pride And each aggrieves his brother ; since in vain Prom dust again to dust. Behold that heap The thirsty pilgrim at the fountain asks (dain. Of mouldering urns (their ashes blown away, Th’ o'erflowing wave — Enough — the plaint disDust of the mighty) the same story tell ;

See'st thou yon fane ? * e'en now incessant time And at its base, from whence the serpent glides Sweeps her low mouldering marbles to the dust ; Down desert street, yon hoary monk And Phæbus' temple, nodding with its woods, Laments the same, the vision as he views,

Threatens huge ruin o'er the small rotund. The solitary, silent, solemn scene,

'T was there beneath a fig-tree's umbrage broad,

Th' astonish'd swains with reverend awe beheld * Begun by Vespasian, and finished by Titus. Thee, O Quirinus, and thy brother-twin,

+ The tomb of Cestius, partly within and partly Pressing the teat within a monster's grasp
vithout the walls.
† The baths of Caracalla, a vast ruin.

The temple of Romulus and Remus under
The Palatin library.

Mount Palatin

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