But her with stern regard he thus repell'd. "Out of my sight, thou serpent! That name best
Befits thee with him leagu'd, thyself as false And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape, Like his, and colour serpentine, may show Thy inward fraud; to warn all creatures from thee [tended Henceforth; lest that too heavenly form, preTo hellish falsehood, snare them! But for thee I had persisted happy; had not thy pride And wandering vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd Not to be trusted; longing to be seen, Though by the Devil himself; him overweening To over-reach; but, with the serpent meeting, Fool'd and beguil'd; by him thou, I by thee, To trust thee from my side; imagin'd wise, Constant, mature, proof against all assaults; And understood not all was but a show, Rather than solid virtue; all but a rib Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister, from me drawn ; Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. O! why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on Earth, this fair defect Of Nature, and not fill the world at once With men, as angels, without feminine; Or find some other way to generate Mankind? This mischief had not then béfall'n, And more that shall befall; innumerable Disturbances on Earth through female snares, And straight conjunction with this sex: for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain Through her perverseness, but shall see her gain'd By a far worse; or, if she love, withheld By parents; or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame : Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace confound." He added not, and from her turn'd; but Eve, Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowAnd tresses all disorder'd, at his feet Fell humble; and, embracing them, besought His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint. "Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness Heaven What love sincere, and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceiv'd! Thy suppliant
I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel, in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace; both joining, As join'd in injuries, one enmity Against a foe by doom express assign'd us, That cruel serpent: on me exercise not Thy hatred for this misery befall'n; On me already lost, me than thyself More miserable! Both have sinn'd; but thou Against God only; I against God and thee; And to the place of judgment will return,
There with my crimes impórtune Heaven; that
The sentence, from thy head remov'd, may light On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe; Me, me only, just object of his ire!"
She ended weeping; and her lowly plight, Immoveable, till peace obtain'd from fault Acknowledg'd and deplor'd, in Adam wrought Commiseration: soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late, and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress; Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel, whom she had displeas'd, his aid: As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words uprais'd her
"Unwary, and too desirous, as before, So now of what thou know'st not, who desir'st The punishment all on thyself; alas! Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part, And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If prayers Could alter high decrees, I to that place Would speed before thee, and be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited; Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven, To me committed, and by me expos'd. But rise ;-let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere; but In offices of love, how we may lighten (strive Each other's burthen, in our share of woe; Since this day's death denounc'd, if aught I see, Will prove no sudden, but a slow pac'd, evil; A long day's dying to augment our pain And to our seed (O hapless seed !) deriv'd.” ·
To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied. "Adam, by sad experiment I know How little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous; thence by just event Found so unfortunate: nevertheless, Restor❜d by thee, vile as I am, to place Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart Living or dying, from thee I will not hide What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, Tending to some relief of our extremes, Or end; though sharp and sad, yet tolerable, As in our evils, and of easier choice. If care of our descent perplex us most, Which must be born to certain woe, devour'd By Death at last; and miserable it is, To be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring Into this cursed world a woeful race, That after wretched life must be at last Food for so foul a monster; in thy power It lies, yet ere conception to prevent The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. Childless thou art, childless remain: so Death Shall be deceiv'd his glut, and with us two Be forc'd to satisfy his ravenous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult, Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet; And with desire to languish without hope, Before the present object languishing With like desire; which would be misery And torment less than none of what we dread; Then, both ourselves and seed at once to free
From what we fear for both, let us make short,Let us seek Death;-or, he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves: Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy?"— She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts Had entertain'd, as dy'd her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, To better hopes his more attentive mind Labouring had rais'd; and thus to Eve replied, "Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems To argue in thee something more sublime And excellent, than w hat thy mind contemns; But self-destruction therefore sought, refutes That excellence thought in thee; and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret For loss of life and pleasure overlov'd. Or if thou covet death, as utmost end Of misery, so thinking to evade The penalty pronounc'd; doubt not but God Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire, than so To be forestall'd; much more I fear lest death, So snatch'd, will not exempt us from the pain We are by doom to pay; rather, such acts Of contumacy will provoke the Highest To make death in us live: then let us seek Some safer resolution, which methinks I have in view, calling to mind with heed Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise The serpent's head; piteous amends! unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe, Satan; who, in the serpent, hath contriv'd Against us this deceit : to crush his head Would be revenge indeed! which will be lost By death brought on ourselves, or childless days Resolv'd, as thou proposest; so our foe Shall 'scape his punishment ordain'd, and we Instead shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mention'd then of violence Against ourselves; and wilful barrenness, That cuts us off from hope; and savours only Rancour and pride, impatience and despite, Reluctance against God and his just yoke Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild And gracious temper he both heard, and judg'd, Vithout wrath or reviling; we expected mmediate dissolution, which we thought Vas meant by death that day; when lo! to
'ains only in child-bearing were foretold,
nd bringing forth; soon recompens'd with joy, ruit of thy womb on me the curse aslope lanc'd on the ground; with labour I must earn ly bread; what harm? Idleness had been
y labour will sustain me; and, lest cold r heat should injure us, his timely care ath, unbesought, provided; and his hands oth'd us unworthy, pitying while he judg'd; ow much more if we pray him, will his ear open, and his heart to pity incline, nd teach us further by what means to shun e inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow? hich now the sky, with various face, begins > show us in this mountain; while the winds ow moist and keen, shattering the graceful
Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish
Our limbs benumm'd, ere this diurnal star Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams Reflected may with matter sere foment; Or, by collision of two bodies, grind The air attrite to fire; as late the clouds [shock, Justling, or push'd with winds, rude in their Tine the slant lightning; whose thwart flame, driven down,
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine;. And sends a comfortable heat from far Which might supply the Sun: such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cure To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought, He will instruct us praying, and of grace Beseeching him; so as we need not fear To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd By him with many comforts, till we end In dust, our final rest and native home. What better can we do, than, to the place Repairing where he judg'd us, prostrate fall Before him reverent; and there confess Humbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek? Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seem'd and most severe, What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone?" So spake our father penitent; nor Eve Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place Repairing where he judg'd them, prostrate fell Before him reverent; and both confess'd Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd; with
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.
The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise; sends Michael with a band of chern, bim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shows to Eve certain ominous signs; he discerns Michael's approach; goes out to meet him the angel denounces their departure. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: the angel leads him up to a high hill; sets before him in vision what shall hap pen till the Flood.
THUS they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Prevenient grace descending had remov'd The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breath'd Unutterable; which the spirit of prayer [flight Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heaven with speedier Than loudest oratory: yet their port Not of mean suitors; nor important less
As how with peccant angels late they saw, And in their state, though firm, stood more con- firm'd."
He ended, and the Son gave signal high To the bright minister that watch'd; he blew His trumpet, heard in Oreb since perhaps When God descended, and perhaps once more
Seem'd their petition, than when the ancient pair To sound at general doom. The angelic blast
In fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore
The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers
Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they pass'd Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fum'd, By their great Intercessor, came in sight Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began.
[sprung "See, Father, what first-fruits on Earth are From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs And prayers, which in this golden censer, mix'd With incense, I thy priest before thee bring; Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, than those Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees Of Paradise could have produc'd ere fall'n From innocence, Now therefore, bend thine ear To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute; Unskilful with what words to pray, let me Interpret for him; me, his advocate And propitiation; all his works on me, Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay. Accept me; and, in me, from these receive The smell of peace toward mankind: let him live Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days Number'd though sad; till death, his doom, (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse,) To better life shall yield him : where with me All my redeem'd may dwell in joy and bliss; Made one with me, as I with thee am one."
Fill'd all the regions: from their blissful bowers Of amarantine shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where'er they sat In fellowships of joy, the sons of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high; And took their seats: till from his throne supreme The Almighty thus pronounc'd his sovran will.
To whom the Father, without cloud, serene. "All thy request for Man, accepted Son, Obtain; all thy request was my decree: But, longer in that Paradise to dwell, The law I gave to Nature him forbids: Those pure immortal elements, that know No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul, Eject him, tainted now; and purge him off, As a distemper, gross, to air as gross, And mortal food; as may dispose him best For dissolution wrought by sin, that first Distemper'd all things, and of incorrupt Corrupted. I, at first, with two fair gifts Created him endow'd; with happiness, And immortality: that fondly lost, This other serv'd but to eternize woe; Till I provided death: so death becomes His final remedy; and, after life, Tried in sharp tribulation, and refin'd By faith and faithful works, to second life, Wak'd in the renovation of the just, Resigns him up with Heaven and Earth renew'd. But let us call to synod all the blest, [not hide Through Heaven's wide bounds: from them I will My judgments; how with mankind I proceed,
"O sons, like oue of us Man is become To know both good and evil, since his taste Of that defended fruit; but let him boast His knowledge of good lost, and evil got; Happier! had it suffic'd him to have known Good by itself, and evil not at all.
He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite, My motions in him; longer than they move, His heart I know, how variable and vain, Self-left. Lest therefore his now bolder hand Reach also of the tree of life, and eat, And live for ever, dream at least to live For ever, to remove him I decree, And send him from the garden forth to till The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil.
"Michael, this my behest have thou in charge; Take to thee from among the cherubim Thy choice of flaming warriours, lest the fiend, Or in behalf of Man, or to invade Vacant possession, some new trouble raise: Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God Without remorse drive out the sinful pair; From hallow'd ground the unholy; and denounce To them, and to their progeny, from thence Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faint At the sad sentence rigorously urg'd, (For I behold them soften'd, and with tears Bewailing their excess,) all terrour hide, If patiently thy bidding they obey, Dismiss them not disconsolate; reveal To Adam what shall come in future days, As I shall thee enlighten; intermix My covenant in the woman's seed renew'd; So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace: And on the east side of the garden place, Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, Cherubic watch; and of a sword the flame Wide-waving; all approach far off to fright, And guard all passage to the tree of life: Lest Paradise a receptacle prove
To spirits foul, and all my trees their prey; With whose stol'n fruit man once more to delude."
He ceas'd; and the arch-angelic power prepar For swift descent; with him the cohort bright Of watchful cherubim: four faces each Had, like a double Janus; all their shape Spangled with eyes more numerous than those Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drouse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Mean while, To re-salute the world with sacred light, Leucothea wak'd; and with fresh dews embal The Earth; when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found
Strength added from above; new hope to spring Out of despair; joy, but with fear yet link'd ; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd.
"Eve, easily may faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heaven descends; But, that from us aught should ascend to Heaven So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God high-blest, or to incline his will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne Even to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer the offended Deity to appease ; Kneel'd, and before him humbled all my heart; Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew That I was heard with favour; peace return'd Home to my breast, and to my memory His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe; Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now Assures me that the bitterness of death Is past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee, Eve rightly call'd, mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living, since by thee Man is to live; and all things live for Man." To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek. "Ill-worthy I such title should belong To me transgressor; who, for thee ordain'd A help, became thy snare; to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust, and all dispraise: But infinite in pardon was my judge, That I, who first brought death on all, am grac'd The source of life; next favourable thou, Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsaf'st, Far other name deserving. But the field To labour calls us, now with sweat impos'd, Though after sleepless night; for see! the Morn, All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins Her rosy progress smiling: let us forth; I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Where'er our day's work lies, though now enjoin'd Laborious till day droop; while here we dwell, What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? Here let us live, though in fall'n state, content." So spake, so wish'd much-humbled Eve; but Fate
Subscrib'd not: Nature first gave signs, impress'd On bird, beast, air; air suddenly eclips'd, After short blush of morn: nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, First hunter then, pursu'd a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observ'd, and with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmov'd, to Eve thus spake.
"O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven, by these mute signs in Nature, Forerunners of his purpose; or to warn Us, haply too secure, of our discharge From penalty, because from death releas'd Some days; how long, and what till then our life, Who knows? or more than this, that we are dust, And thither must return, and be no more? Why else this double object in our sight Of flight pursued in the air, and o'er the ground, One way the self-same hour? why in the east Darkness ere day's mid-course, and morning-light More orient in yon western cloud, that draws
O'er the blue firmament a radiant white, And slow descends with something heavenly fraught?"
He err'd not; for by this the heavenly bands Down from a sky of jasper lighted now In Paradise, and on a hill made halt; A glorious apparition, had not doubt And carnal fear that day dimm'd Adam's eye. Not that more glorious, when the angels met Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw
The field pavilion'd with his guardians bright; Nor that, which on the flaming mount appear'd In Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire, Against the Syrian king, who to surprise One man, assassin-like, had levied war, War unproclaim'd. The princely hierarch In their bright stand there left his powers, to seize Possession of the garden; he alone,
To find where Adam shelter'd, took his way, Not unperceiv'd of Adam: who to Eve, While the great visitant approach'd, thus spake. "Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon'determine, or impose New laws to be observ'd; for I descry, From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, One of the heavenly host; and, by his gait, None of the meanest ; some great potentate Or of the thrones above; such majesty Invests him coming! yet not terrible, That I should fear; nor sociably mild, As Raphaël, that I should much confide; But solemn and sublime; whom not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire."
He ended; and the arch-angel soon drew nigh, Not in his shape celestial, but as man Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms A military vest of purple flow'd, Livelier than Melibean, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes o'd In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof; His starry helm unbuckled show'd him prime In manhood where youth ended; by his side, As in a glistering zodiac, hung the sword, Satan's dire dread; and in his hand the spear. Adam bow'd low; he, kingly, from his state Inclin'd not, but his coming thus declar'd.
"Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs: Sufficient that thy prayers are heard; and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seizure many days
Given thee of grace; wherein thou may'st repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done May'st cover well may then thy Lord, ap- peas'd, [claim; Redeem thee quite from Death's rapacious But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not: to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the garden forth to till The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil." He added not; for Adam at the news Heart-struck with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discover'd soon the place of her retire.
"O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names! Who now shall rear ye to the Sun, or rank Your tribes, and water om the ambrosial fount? Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorn'd [thee With what to sight or smell was sweet! from How shall I part, and whither wander down Into a lower world; to this obscure And wild? how shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits??? Whom thus the angel interrupted mild, "Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart, Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine : Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soil." Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scatter'd spirits return'd, To Michael thus his humble words address'd. "Celestial, whether among the thrones,or nam'd Of them the highest; for such of shape may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes! all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate; Nor knowing us, nor known: and, if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries : But prayer against his absolute decree
No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it Therefore to his great bidding I submit. [forth: This most afflicts me, that, departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, depriv'd His blessed countenance: here I could frequent With worship place by place where he vouchsaf'd Presence Divine; and to my sons relate,
On this mount he appear'd; under this tree Stood visible; among these pines his voice I heard; here with him at this fountain talk'd:' So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory Or monument to ages; and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowIn yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or foot-step trace? For though I fled him angry, yet, recall'd To life prolong'd and promis'd race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory; and far off his steps adore."
To whom thus Michael with regard benign. "Adam, thou know'st Heaven his, and all the Earth;
Not this rock only; his Omnipresence fills Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, Fomented by his virtual power and warm'd: All the Earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift; surmise not then
His presence to these narrow bounds confin'd Of Paradise, or Eden: this had been Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread All generations; and had hither come From all the ends of the Earth, to celebrate And reverence thee, their great progenitor. But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down
To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: Yet doubt not but in valley, and in plain, God is, as here; and will be found alike Present; and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine. Which that thou may'st believe, and be confirm'd Erethou from hence depart; know, I am sent To show thee what shall come in future days To thee, and to thy offspring: good with bad Expect to hear; supernal grace contending With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear And pious sorrow; equally inur'd By moderation either state to bear, Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepar'd endure Thy mortal passage when it comes.-Ascend This hill; let Eve (for I have drench'd her eyes) Here sleep below; while thou to foresight wak'st; As once thou slept'st,while she to life was form'd." To whom thus Adam gratefully replied. "Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path Thou lead'st me; and to the hand of Heaven However chastening; to the evil turn [subunit, My obvious breast; arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain."-So both ascend In the visions of God. It was a hill, Of Paradise the highest; from whose top The hemisphere of Earth, in clearest ken, Stretch'd out to the amplest reach of prospect lay, Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round, Whereon, for different cause, the tempter set Our second Adam, in the wilderness; [glory. To show him all Earth's kingdoms, and their His eye might there command wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destin'd walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne, To Paquin of Sinæan kings; and thence To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul, Down to the golden Chersonese; or where The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since In Hispahan; or where the Russian ksar In Mosco; or the sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken The empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco, and the less maritim kings Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south; Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen; On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway The world in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume, And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat
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