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Oft has the poet's magic tongue
The rose's fair luxuriance sung;
And long the Muses, heavenly maids,
Have rear'd it in their tuneful shades.
When, at the early glance of morn,
It sleeps upon the glittering thorn,
"T is sweet to dare the tangled fence,
To cull the timid flow'ret thence,
And wipe, with tender hand, away
The tear that on its blushes lay!
"T is sweet to hold the infant stems,
Yet dropping with Aurora's gems,
And fresh inhale the spicy sighs
That from the weeping buds arise.
When revel reigns, when mirth is high,
And Bacchus beams in every eye,
Our

rosy fillets scent exhale,

And fill with balm the fainting gale!
Oh, there is nought in nature bright,
Where roses do not shed their light!
When morning paints the orient skies,
Her fingers burn with roseate dyes!
The nymphs display the rose's charms,
It mantles o'er their graceful arms;
Through Cytherea's form it glows,
And mingles with the living snows.
The rose distils a healing balm,
The beating pulse of pain to calm;
Preserves the cold inurned clay,
And mocks the vestige of decay:

Oft has the poet's magic tongue,

The rose's fair luxuriance sung, etc.] The following is a fragment of the Lesbian poetess. It is cited in the romance of Achilles Tatius, who appears to have resolved the numbers into prose. Ev Tots Vθεσιν ἤθελεν ὁ Ζευς επιθείναι βασιλεα, το ροδον αν των ανθέων εβασιλευει γης εςι κόσμος, φυτων αγλαίσμα, οφθαλμος ανθέων, λειμωνος ερύθημα, καλλος αςραπτον. Έρωτος πνει, Αφροδίτην προξενεί, ευει δεσι φύλλοις κομα, ευκίνητοις πεταλοις τρυφα το πεταλον το Ζεφύρῳ γελα.

If Jove would give the leafy towers
A queen for all their world of flowers,
The rose would be the choice of Jove,
And blush the queen of every grove.
Sweetest child of weeping morning,
Gem, the vest of earth adorning,
Eye of flow'rets, glow of lawns,
Bud of beauty nursed by dawns:
Soft the soul of love it breathes,
Cypria's brow with magic wreathes,
And, to the Zephyr's warm caresses,
Diffuses all its verdant tresses,

Till, glowing with the wanton's play,
It blushes a diviner ray!

When morning paints the orient skies,

Her fingers burn with roseate dyes, etc.] In the original here, he enumerates the many epithets of beauty, borrowed from roses, which were used by the poets, πρ тy pay. We see that poets were dignified in Greece with the title of sages; even the careless Anacreon, who lived but for love and voluptuousness, was called by Plato the wise Anacreon. Fuit hæc sapientia quondam.

Preserves the cold inurned clay, etc.] He here alludes to the use of the rose in embalming; and, perhaps (as Barnes thinks), to the rosy unguent with which Venus anointed the corpse of Hector. Homer's Iliad, . It may likewise regard the ancient practice of putting garlands of roses on the dead, as in Statius, Theb. lib. x, 782. hi sertis, hi veris honore soluto

Accumulant arius patriaque in sede reponunt
Corpus odoratum.

Where veris honor, though it mean every kind of flowers, may

And when, at length, in pale decline,
Its florid beauties fade and pine,
Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath
Diffuses odour e'en in death!

Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung?
Attend-for thus the tale is sung.

When, humid, from the silvery stream,
Effusing beauty's warmest beam,
Venus appear'd, in flushing hues,
Mellow'd by Ocean's briny dews;
When, in the starry courts above,
The pregnant brain of mighty Jove
Disclosed the nymph of azure glance,
The nymph who shakes the martial lance!
Then, then, in strange eventful hour,
The earth produced an infant flower,
Which sprung, with blushing tinctures dress'd,
And wanton'd o'er its parent breast.
The gods beheld this brilliant birth,
And hail'd the Rose, the boon of earth!
With nectar drops, a ruby tide,
The sweetly orient buds they dyed,
And bade them bloom, the flowers divine
Of him who sheds the teeming vine;
And bade them on the spangled thorn
Expand their bosoms to the morn.

seem more particularly to refer to the rose, which our poet, in another ode, calls Expos petnya. We read, in the Hieroglyphics of Pierius, lib. Iv, that some of the ancients used to order, in their wills, that roses should be annually scattered on their tombs; and he has adduced some sepulchral inscriptions to this purpose.

And mocks the vestige of decay.] When he says that this flower prevails over time itself, he still alludes to its efficacy in embalment (tenera poneret ossa rosa, Propert. lib. i, eleg. 17), or perhaps to the subsequent idea of us fragrance surviving its beauty; for he can scarcely mean to praise for duration the - nimium breves fores n of the rose. Philostratus compares this flower with love, and says that they both defy the influence of time; χρονον δὲ οὔτε Ερως, OUTE poda olday. Unfortunately the similitude lies, not in their duration, but their transience.

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ODE LVI.

HE, who instructs the youthful crew
To bathe them in the brimmer's dew,
And taste, uncloy'd by rich excesses,
All the bliss that wine possesses!
He, who inspires the youth to glance
In winged circlets through the dance!
Bacchus, the god, again is here,
And leads along the blushing year;
The blushing year with rapture teems,
Ready to shed those cordial streams
Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,
Illuminate the sons of earth!
And when the ripe and vermil wine,
Sweet infant of the pregnant vine,
Which now in mellow clusters swells,
Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells,

The heavenly stream shall mantling flow,
To balsam every mortal woe!

No youth shall then be wan or weak,
For dimpling health shall light the cheek;
No heart shall then desponding sigh,
For wine shall bid despondence fly!
Thus-till another autumn's glow
Shall bid another vintage flow!

ODE LVII.'

AND whose immortal hand could shed
Upon this disk the ocean's bed?
And, in a frenzied flight of soul,
Sublime as Heaven's eternal pole,
Imagine thus, in semblance warm,
The Queen of Love's voluptuous form,

1 Compare with this elegant ode the verses of Uz, lib. i, die Weinlese. Degen.

This appears to be one of the hymns which were sung at the anniversary festival of the vintage; one of the autot vot, as our poet himself terms them in the fifty-ninth ode. We cannot help feeling a peculiar veneration for these relics of the religion of antiquity. Horace may be supposed to bave written the nineteenth ode of his second book, and the twenty-fifth of the third, for some bacchanalian celebration of this kind.

Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,

Illuminate the sons of earth!] In the original TOTOV ASOVOY XO

. Madame Dacier thinks that the poet here had the nepenthe of Homer in his mind. Odyssey, lib. iv. This nepenthe was a something of exquisite charm, infused by Helen into the wine of her guests, which bad the power of dispelling every anxiety. A French writer, with very elegant gallantry, conjectures that this spell, which made the bowl so beguiling, was the charm of Helen's conversation. See de Meré, quoted by Bayle, art. Helène.

2 This ode is a very animated description of a picture of Venus on a discus, which represented the goddess in her first emergence from the waves. About two centuries after our poet wrote, the pencil of the artist Apelles embellished this subject, in his famous painting of the Venus Anadyomené, the model of which, as Pliny informs us, was the beautiful Campaspe, given to him by Alexander; though. according to Natalis Comes, lib. vii, cap. 16, it was Phryne who sat to Apelles for the face and breast of this Venus.

There are a few blemishes in the reading of the ode before us. which have influenced Faber, Heyne, Brunck, etc. to denounce the whole poem as spurious. Non ego paucis offendar maculis. I think it is beautiful enough to be authentic.

And whose immortal hand could shed

Upon this disk the ocean's bed?] The abruptness of pa Tis ToPEUGE TOYTOY, is finely expressive of sudden admiration, and is one of those beauties which we canuot but admire in their source, though, by frequent imitation, they are now become languid and unimpressive.

Floating along the silvery sea
In beauty's naked majesty?
Oh! he has given the raptured sight
A witching banquet of delight;
And all those sacred scenes of Love,
Where only hallowed eyes may rove,
Lie faintly glowing, half-conceal'd,
Within the lucid billows veil'd.
Light as the leaf that summer's breeze
Has wafted o'er the glassy seas,
She floats upon the ocean's breast,
Which undulates in sleepy rest,
And stealing on, she gently pillows
Her bosom on the amorous billows.
Her bosom, like the humid rose,
Her neck, like dewy-sparkling snows,
Illume the liquid path she traces,
And burn within the stream's embraces!
In languid luxury soft she glides,
Encircled by the azure tides,

Like some fair lily, faint with weeping,
Upon a bed of violets sleeping!
Beneath their queen's inspiring glance,
The dolphins o'er the green sea dance,
Bearing in triumph young Desire,
And baby Love with smiles of fire!
While, sparkling on the silver waves,
The tenants of the briny caves
Around the pomp in eddies play,
And gleam along the watery way.

ODE LVIII.'

WHEN gold, as fleet as Zephyr's pinion,
Escapes like any faithless minion,

And all those sacred scenes of love,

Where only hallow'd eyes may rove, etc.] The picture here has all the delicate character of the semi-reducta Venus, and is the sweetest emblem of what the poetry of passion ought to be,-glowing bet through a veil, and stealing upon the heart from concealment. Few of the ancients have attained this modesty of description, which is like the golden cloud that hung over Jupiter and Jano, impervious to every beam but that of fancy.

Her bosom like the humid rose, etc.] 'Podesiv (says an anonyHOUS annotator) is a whimsical epithet for the bosom. Neither Catullas nor Gray have been of his opinion. The former has the expression, En hic in roseis latet papillis.

And the latter,

Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd hours, etc.

Crottus, a modern Latinist, might indeed be censured for too vague an use of the epithet rosy, when he applies it to the eyes: e reseis oculis.

young Desire, etc.] In the original Iuepos, who was the same deity with Jocus among the Romans. Aurelius Augurellas has a poem beginning

Invitat olim Bacchus ad cœnam suos
Comon, Jocum, Cupidinem.

Which Parnell has closely imitated:

Gay Bacchus, liking Estcourt's wine,
A noble meal bespoke us;
And, for the guests that were to dine,
Brought Comas, Love, and Jocus, etc.

I have followed Barnes's arrangement of this ode; it deviates somewhat from the Vatican MS., but it appeared to me the more na

tural order.

When gold, as fleet as Zephyr's pinion,

Escapes like any faithless minion, etc.] In the original 'O dpaTετas à xрucos. There is a kind of pun in these words, as

And flies me (as he flies me ever),
Do I pursue him? never, never!
No, let the false deserter go,
For who would court his direst foe?
But, when I feel my lighten'd mind
No more by ties of gold confined,
I loosen all my clinging cares,
And cast them to the vagrant airs.
Then, then I feel the Muse's spell,
And wake to life the dulcet shell;
The dulcet shell to beauty sings,
And love dissolves along the strings!
Thus, when my heart is sweetly taught
How little gold deserves a thought,
The winged slave returns once more,
And with him wafts delicious store
Of racy wine, whose balmy art
In slumber seals the anxious heart!
Again he tries my soul to sever

From love and song, perhaps for ever!
Away, deceiver! why pursuing
Ceaseless thus my heart's undoing?
Sweet is the song of amorous fire;
Sweet are the sighs that thrill the lyre;
Oh! sweeter far than all the gold
The waftage of thy wings can hold.
I well remember all thy wiles;
They wither'd Cupid's flowery smiles,
And o'er his harp such garbage shed,
I thought its angel breath was fled!
They tainted all his bowl of blisses,
His bland desires and hallow'd kisses.
Oh! fly to haunts of sordid men,

But rove not near the bard again;

Madame Dacier has already remarked; for Chrysos, which signifies gold, was also a frequent name for a slave. In one of Lucian's dialogues, there is, I think, a similar play upon the word, where the followers of Chrysippus are called golden fishes. The puns of the ancients are, in general, even more vapid than our own; some of the best are those recorded of Diogenes.

And flies me (as he flies me ever), etc.] Aɛt d', det je pevyet. This grace of iteration has already been taken notice of. Though sometimes merely a playful beauty, it is peculiarly expressive of impassioned sentiment, and we may easily believe that it was one of the many sources of that energetic seusibility which breathed through the style of Sappho. See Gyrald. Vet. Poet. Dial. 9. It will not be said that this is a mechanical ornament by any one who can feel its charm in these lines of Catullus, where he complains of the infidelity of his mistress, Lesbia.

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Thy glitter in the Muse's shade
Scares from her bower the tuneful maid;
And not for worlds would I forego
That moment of poetic glow,

When my full soul, in Fancy's stream,

Pours o'er the lyre its swelling theme.
Away, away! to worldlings hence,
Who feel not this diviner sense,
And, with thy gay fallacious blaze,
Dazzle their unrefined gaze.

ODE LIX.

SABLED by the solar beam,
Now the fiery clusters teem,
In osier baskets, borne along
By all the festal vintage throng
Of rosy youths and virgins fair,
Ripe as the melting fruits they bear.
Now, now they press the pregnant grapes,
And now the captive stream escapes,
In fervid tide of nectar gushing,
And for its bondage proudly blushing!
While, round the vat's impurpled brim,
The choral song, the vintage hymn

Of

rosy youths and virgins fair,
Steals on the cloy'd and panting air.
Mark, how they drink, with all their eyes,
The orient tide that sparkling flies;
The infant balm of all their fears,
The infant Bacchus, born in tears!
When he, whose verging years decline
As deep into the vale as mine,
When he inhales the vintage-spring,
His heart is fire, his foot's a wing;
And, as he flies, his hoary hair
Plays truant with the wanton air!
While the warm youth, whose wishing soul
Has kindled o'er the inspiring bowl,
Impassion'd seeks the shadowy grove,
Where, in the tempting guise of love,
Reclining sleeps some witching maid,
Whose sunny charms, but half display'd,
Blush through the bower, that, closely twined,
Excludes the kisses of the wind!

The virgin wakes, the glowing boy
Allures her to the embrace of joy;
Swears that the herbage Heaven had spread
Was sacred as the nuptial bed;

1 The title Επιληνιος ύμνος, which Barnes has given to this ode, is by no means appropriate. We bave already had one of those hymns (ode 56), but this is a description of the vintage; and the title Ets otvo, which it bears in the Vatican MS., is more correct than any that have been suggested.

Degn, in the true spirit of literary scepticism, doubts that this ode is genuine, without assigning any reason for such a suspicion. «Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare; but this is far from satisfactory criticism.

Swears that the herbage Heaven had spread,

as sacred as the nuptial bed, etc.] The original here has been variously interpreted. Some, in their zeal for our author's purity, bave supposed that the youth only persuades ber to a premature marriage; others understand from the words προδντιν γαμων γενεσθαι, that he seduces her to a violation of the nuptial vow. The turn which I have given it is somewhat like the sentiment of Heloisa, amorem conjugio, libertatem vinculo præferre. (See her original Letters.) The Italian translations have almost all wantoned upon this description: but that of Marchetti is indeed nimium lubricus aspici.»

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AWAKE to life, my dulcet shell,
To Phoebus all thy sighs shall swell;
And though no glorious prize be thine,
No Pythian wreath around thee twine,
Yet every hour is glory's hour,

To him who gathers wisdom's flower!
Then wake thee from thy magic slumbers,
Breathe to the soft and Phrygian numbers.
Which, as my trembling lips repeat,
Thy chords shall echo back as sweet.
The cygnet thus, with fading notes,
As down Cayster's tide he floats,
Plays with his snowy plumage fair
Upon the wanton murmuring air,
Which amorously lingers round,
And sighs responsive sound for sound!
Muse of the Lyre! illume my dream,
Thy Phoebus is my fancy's theme;
And hallow'd is the harp I bear,
And hallow'd is the wreath I wear,
Hallow'd by him, the god of lays,
Who modulates the choral maze!
I sing the love which Daphne twined
Around the godhead's yielding mind;
I sing the blushing Daphne's flight
From this æthereal youth of light;
And how the tender, timid maid
Flew panting to the kindly shade,
Resign'd a form, too tempting fair,
And grew a verdant laurel there;
Whose leaves, with sympathetic thrill,
In terror seem'd to tremble still!

This hymn to Apollo is supposed not to have been written by Anacreon, and it certainly is rather a sublimer flight than the Teian wing is accustomed to soar. But we ought not to judge from this diversity of style, in a poet of whom time has preserved such partial relics. If we knew Horace but as a satirist, should we easily believe there could dwell such animation in his lyre? Suidas says that our poet wrote hymns, and this perhaps is one of them. We can perceive in what an altered and imperfect state his works are at preseut, when we find a scholiast upon Horace citing an ode from the third book of Anacreon.

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The god pursued, with wing'd desire;
And when his hopes were all on fire,
And when he thought to hear the sigh
With which enamour'd virgins die,
He only heard the pensive air
Whispering amid her leafy hair!
But oh, my soul! no more-no more!
Enthusiast, whither do I soar?
This sweetly maddening dream of soul
Has hurried me beyond the goal.
Why should I sing the mighty darts
Which fly to wound celestial hearts,
When sure the lay, with sweeter tone,
Can tell the darts that wound my own?
Still be Anacreon, still inspire

The descant of the Teian lyre:

Still let the nectar'd numbers float,
Distilling love in every note!

And when the youth, whose burning soul
Has felt the Paphian star's control,
When he the liquid lays shall hear,
His heart will flutter to his ear,
And drinking there of song divine,
Banquet on intellectual wine!

ODE LXI.'

GOLDEN hues of youth are fled;
Hoary locks deform my head.

Still be Anacreon, still inspire

The descant of the Teian lyre.] The original is Toy Avaxpsovtæ μιμου. I have translated it under the supposition that the hymn is by Anacreon; though I fear, from this very line, that his claim to it can scarcely be supported.

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Imitate Anacreon. Such is the Τον Ανακρέοντα μιμού, lesson given us by the lyrist; and if, in poetry, a simple elegance of sentiment, enriched by the most playful felicities of fancy, be a charm which invites or deserves imitation, where shall we find such a guide as Anacreon? In morality, too, with some little reserve, I think we might not blush to follow in his footsteps. For if his song be the language of his heart, though luxurious and relaxed, be was artless and benevolent; and who would not forgive a few irregu larities, when atoned for by virtues so rare and so endearing? When we think of the sentiment in those lines:

Away! I hate the slanderous dart

Which steals to wound the unwary heart,

how many are there in the world to whom we would wish to say, Τον Ανακρέοντα μιμου !

Here ends the last of the odes in the Vatican MS., whose autho rity confirms the genuine antiquity of them all, though a few have stolen among the number which we may besitate in attributing to Anacreon. In the little essay prefixed to this translation, I observed that Barnes had quoted this manuscript incorrectly, relying upon an imperfect copy of it which Isaac Vossius had taken; I sball just mention two or three instances of this inaccuracy, the first which occur to me. In the ode of the Dove, on the words repost

azλup, he says, « Vatican MS. Gustav, etiam Prisciano invito, - though the Manuscript reads xxłupa, with ovoxtasa interlined. Degen, too, on the same line, is somewhat in error. In the twenty-second ode of this series, line thir teenth, the MS. bas Tevty with zt interlined, and Barnes imputes to it the reading of Tevon. In the fifty-seventh, line twelfth, he professes to have preserved the reading of the MS. Adzanevno επ' αυτή, while the latter has αλαλημένος δ' επ' αυτα, Almost all the other commentators have transplanted these errors from Barnes.

The intrusion of this melancholy ode among the careless levities of our poet, has always reminded me of the skeletons which the Egyptians used to hang up in their banquet-rooms, to inculcate a thought of mortality even amidst the dissipations of mirth. If it were not for the beauty of its numbers, the Teian Muse should disown this ode. Quid habet illius, illius que spirabat amores? To Stobaus we are indebted for it.

Bloomy graces, dalliance gay,
All the flowers of life decay.
Withering age begins to trace
Sad memorials o'er my face;
Time has shed its sweetest bloom,
All the future must be gloom!
This awakes my hourly sighing;
Dreary is the thought of dying!
Pluto's is a dark abode,

Sad the journey, sad the road:
And the gloomy travel o'er,

Ah! we can return no more!

ODE LXII.

FILL me, boy, as deep a draught
As e'er was fill'd, as e'er was quaff'd;
But let the water amply flow,

To cool the grape's intemperate glow;
Let not the fiery god be single,

But with the nymphs in union mingle;
For, though the bowl's the
grave of sadness,
Oh! be it ne'er the birth of madness!

Bloomy graces, dalliance gay,

All the flowers of life decay.] Horace often, with feeling and elegance, deplores the fugacity of human enjoyments. See book ii, ode 11; and thus in the second epistle, book ii,

Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes,
Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum.

The wing of every passing day
Withers some blooming joy away;
And wafts from our enamour'd arms
The banquet's mirth, the virgin's charms.

Dreary is the thought of dying, etc.] Regnier, a libertine French poet, has written some sonnets on the approach of death, full of gloomy and trembling repentance. Chaulieu, however, supports more consistently the spirit of the Epicurean philosopher. See his poem, addressed to the Marquis La Farre:

Plus j'approche du terme et moins je le redoute, etc.

I shall leave it to the moralist to make his reflections here: it is impossible to be very anacreontic on such a subject.

And, the gloomy travel o'er,

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This fragment is preserved in Clemens Alexandrinus, Strom. vi, and in Arsenius, Collect. Græc. BARNES.

It appears to have been the opening of a hymn in praise of Love.

Ah! we can return no more!] Scaliger, upon Catullus's well-lib. known lines, Qui nunc it per iter, etc. remarks, that Acheron, with the same idea, is called avetodos, by Theocritus, and δυσεκδρομος, by Nicander.

1 This ode consists of two fragments, which are to be found in Athenæus, book x, and which Barnes, from the similarity of their tendency, has combined into one. I think this a very justifiable liberty, and have adopted it in some other fragments of our poet. Degen refers us here to verses of Uz, lib. iv, der Trinker.

But let the water amply flow,

To cool the grape's intemperate glow, etc.] It was Amphictyon who first taught the Greeks to mix water with their wine; in commemoration of which circumstance they erected altars to Bacchus and the nymphs. On this mythological allegory the following epigram is founded:

Ardentem ex utero Semeles lavere Lyæum
Naiades, extincto fulminis igne sacri;
Cum nymphis igitur tractabilis, at sine nymphis
Candenti rursus fulmine corripitur.
Pierius Valerianus.

Which is, non verbum verbo,

While heavenly fire consumed his Theban dame,
A Naiad caught young Bacchus from the flame,
And dipp'd him burning in her purest lymph:
Still, still he loves the sea-maid's crystal uro,
And when his native fires infuriate burn,

He bathes him in the fountain of the nymph.

This hymn to Diana is extant in Hephaestion. There is an anecdote of our poet, which has led to some doubt whether he ever wrote any odes of this kind. It is related by the Scholiast upon Pindar (Isthmionic. od. ii, v. 1, as cited by Barnes). Anacreon being asked, why he addressed all his hymns to women, and none to the deities? answered, Because women are my deities."

I have assumed the same liberty in reporting this anecdote which I have done in translating some of the odes; and it were to be wished that these little infidelities were always considered pardonable in the interpretation of the ancients; thus, when nature is forgotten in the original, in the translation, tamen usque recurret.»

Turn, to Lethe's river turn,

There thy vanquish'd people mourn!] Lethe, a river of Ionia, according to Strabo, falling into the Meander; near to it was situated the town Magnesia, in favour of whose inhabitants our poet is supposed to have addressed this supplication to Diana. It was written (as Madame Dacier conjectures) on the occasion of some battle, in which the Magnesians had been defeated.

This ode, which is addressed to some Thracian girl, exists in Heraclides, and has been imitated very frequently by Horace, as all the annotators have remarked. Madame Dacier rejects the allegory, which runs so obviously throughout it, and supposes it to have been addressed to a young mare belonging to Polycrates: there is more modesty than ingenuity in the lady's conjecture.

Pierius, in the fourth book of his Hieroglyphics, cites this ode, and informs us, that the horse was the hieroglyphical emblem of pride.

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