master, acting surgeon, botanist, gunner, boatswain, completed. The remaining part had every prospets of carpenter, master, and quarter-master's mate, two quar- success. ter-masters, the sail-maker, two cooks, my clerk, the It will naturally be asked, what could be the cause of butcher, and a boy. There remained on board, Fletcher such a revolt? In answer, I can only conjecture that the Christian, the master's mate; Peter Haywood, Edward mutineers had Hattered themselves with the hope of a Young, George Stewart, midshipmen; the master-at- happier life among the Otaheitans than they could posarms, gunner's mate, boatswain's matc, gardener, ar- sibly enjoy in England; which, joined to some fernale morcr, carpenter's mate, carpenter's crew, and four-connexions, most probably occasioned the whole transteen seamen, being altogether the most able men of the action. ship's company.

The women of Otaheite are handsome, mild, and Having little or no wind, we rowed pretty fast towards cheerful in manners and conversation; possessed of the island of Tofoa, which bore north-east about ten great sensibility, and have sufficient delicacy to make leagues distant. The ship while in sight steered west-them be admired and heloved. The chiefs were so much north-west, but this I considered only as a feint, for attached to our people, that they rather encouraged when we were sent away, "Huzza for Otaheite!" was their stay among them than otherwise, and even made frequently heard among the mutineers.

them promises of large possessions. Under these, and Christian, the chief of them, was of a respectable many other concomitant circumstances, it ought hardly family in the north of England. This was the third to be the subject of surprise that a set of sailors, most voyage he had made with me. Notwithstanding the of them void of connexions, should be led away, where roughness with which I was treated, the remembrance of they had the power of fixing themselves in the midst past kindness produced some remorse in him. While of plenty, in one of the finest islands in the world, where they were forcing me out of the ship, I asked him whether there was no necessity to labour, and where the allurethis was a proper return for the many instances he had ments of dissipation are beyond any conception that experienced of my friendship? He appeared disturbed can be formed of it. The utmost, however, that a comat the question, and answered, with much emotion, mander could have expected, was desertions, such as “That-Captain Bligh—that is the thing-I am in have already happened more or less in the South Seas, hell-I am in hell." His abilities to take charge of the and not an act of open mutiny. third watch, as I had so divided the ship's company, But the secrecy of this mutiny surpasses belief. Thirwere fully equal to the task.

teen of the party who were now with me had always Haywood was also of a respectable family in the lived forward among the seamen; yet neither they, nor north of England, and a young man of abilities, as well the messmates of Christian, Stewart, Haywood, and as Christian. These two had been objects of my partic- Young, had ever observed any circumstance to excite ular regard and attention, and I had taken great pains suspicion of what was plotting; and it is not wonderful to instruct them, having entertained hopes that, as pro- if I fell a sacrifice to it, my mind being entirely free fessional men, they would have become a credit to their from suspicion. Perhaps, had marines been on board, country. Young was well recommended; and Stewart a sentinel at my cabin-door might have prevented it; of creditable parents in the Orkneys, at which place, on for I constantly slept with the door open, that the officer the return of the Resolution from the South Seas in 1780, of the watch might have access to me on all occasions. we received so many civilities, that in consideration of If the mutiny had been occasioned by any grievances, these alone I should gladly have taken him with me. either real or imaginary, I must have discovered sympBut he had always borne a good character.

toms of discontent, which would have put me on my When I had time to reflect, an inward satisfaction guard; but it was far otherwise. With Christian, in prevented the depression of my spirits. Yet, a few particular, I was on the most friendly terms; that very hours before, my situation had been peculiarly flatter-day he was engaged to have dined with me; and the ing; I had a ship in the most perfect order, stored with preceding night he excused himself from supping with every necessary, both for health and service; the object me on pretence of indisposition, for which I felt conof the voyage was attained, and two-thirds of it now. cerned, having no suspicions of his honour or integrity.

The Sage of Bronze;


"Impar Congressus Achilli."


I know not if the angels weep, but men
THE “good c Id times”-all times, when old, ar good Have wept enough—for what?-to weep again.
Are gone; the present might be, if they would;

Great things have been, and are, and grealer still All is exploded-he it good or bad.
Want luule of mere mortals but their will:

Realer! remember when thou wert a lad,
A wider space, a greener field is given

Tien Pitt was all; or, if not all, so much, To those who play their “tricks before high Ieaven." alis very rival almost deem'd him such.

We, we have seen the intellectual race

Vain his complaint-my lord presents his bill, Of giants stand, like Titans, face to face

His food and wine were doled out duly still : Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea

Vain was his sickness,-never was a crime Of eloquence between, which How'd all free,

So free from homicide-to doubt's a crime; As the deep billows of the Ægean roar

And the stifi surgeon, who maintain’d his cause, Bawixt the Hellenic and Phrygian shore.

Hath lost his place, and gain'd the world's applause. But where are they—the rivals ? —a few feet But smile—though all the pangs of brain and heart Of sullen earth divide each winding-sheet.

Disdain, defy, the tardy aid of art; How peaceful and how powerful is the grave,

Though, save the few fond friends, and imaged face Which hushes all! a calm, unstormy wave

Of that fair boy his sire shall ne'er embrace, Which oversweeps the world. The theme is old None stand by his low bed-though even the mind Of " dust to dust,” but half its tale untold.

Be wavering, which long awed and awes mankind,-Time tempers not its terrors-still the worm

Smile-for the fetter'd eagle breaks his chain,
Winds its cold folds, the tomb preserves its form- And higher worlds than this are his again.
Varied above, but süll alike below;

The urn may shine, the ashes will not glow. How, if that soaring spirit still retain
Though Cleopatra's mummy cross the sea,

A conscious twilight of his blazing reign,
O'er which from empire she lured Antony;

How must he smile, on looking down, to see Though Alexander's urn a show be grown

The little that he was and sought to be! On shores he wept to conquer, though unknown

What though his name a wider empire found How vain, how worse than vain, at leng-h appear Than his ambition, though with scarce a bound; The madman's wish, the Macedonian's tear. Though first in glory, deepest in reverse, He wept for worlds to conquer-half the earth

He tasted empire's blessings, and its curse; knows not his name, or but is death and birth

Though kings, rejoicing in their late escape And desolation; while his native Greece

From chains, would gladly be their tyrant's ape: Hath all of desolation, save its peace.

How must he smile, and turn to yon lone grave, He “ wept for worlds to conquer !” he who ne'er

The proudest sea-mark that o'ertops the wave! Conceived the globe he panted not to spare!

What though his jailor, duteous to the last, With even the busy Northern Isle unknown,

Scarce deem'd the coffin's lead could keep him fast, Which holds his urn, and never knew his throne.

Refusing one poor line along the lid

To date the birth and death of all it hid,

That name shall hallow the ignoble shore,
Pot where is he, the modern, mightier far,

A talisman to all save him who bore:
Who, born no king, made monarchs draw his car; The fleets that sweep before the castern blast
The new Sesostris, whose unharness'd kings, Shall hear their sea-boys hail it from the mast;
Freed from the bit, believe themselves with wings When Victory's Gallic column shall but rise,

spurn the dust o'er which they crawld of late, Like Pompey's pillar, in a desert's skies,
Chain'd to the chariot of the chieftain's state? The rocky isle that holds or held his dust
Yes! where is he, the champion and the child Shall crown the Atlantic like the hero's bust,
Of all trat 's great or little, wise or wild?

And mighty Nature o'er his obsequies Whose game was empires, and whose siakes were Do more than niggard Envy still denies. thrones ;

But what are these to himn? Can glory's lust Those table, earth-whose dice were huma, bones? Touch the freed spirit of the ferier'd dust? Behoid the grand result in yon lone isle,

Small care hath he of what his tomb consists, And, as thy nature urges, weep or smile.

Nought if he sleeps-nor more if he exists: Sigh to behold the eagle's lofty rage

Alike the better-seeing shade will smile Reduced to nibble at his narrow cage;

On the rude cavern of the rocky isle, Smile to survey the Queller of the Nations

As if his ashes found their latest home Viw daily squabbling o’er disputed rations ;

In Rome's Pantheon, or Gaul's mimic dome. Weep to perceive him mourning, as he dines,

le wants not this; but France shall feel the want O'er curtail'd dishes and o'er stinted wines;

of this last consolation, though so scant ; O'er peily quarrels upon petty things

Her honour, fame, and faith, demand his bones,
Is this the man who scourged or feasted kings? To rear amid a pyramid of thrones;
Brhold the scales in which his fortune hangs,

Or carried onward, in the battle's van,
A surgeon's statement and an earl's harangues ! To form, like Guesclin's' dust, her talisman.
A bust delay'd, a book refused, can shake

But be as it is, the time may come
The sleep of him who kept the world awake.

His name shall beat the alarm like Ziska's drum. 1. this indeed the Tamer of the Greal,

V. Now slave of all could teaze or irritate

Oh, Heaven! of which he was in power a feature, 'The paitry jailor and the prving spy,

Oh, earth! of which he was a noble creature; Tie staring stranger with his note-book nigh? Thou isle! to be remember'd long and well, Plunged in a dungron, he had still been great; That saw'st the unfledged eaglet chip his shell! Ilow !ow, how little, was this middle state,

I Guesclin died during the siege of a city: it surrendered, Houtween a prison and a palace, where

and the keys were brought ana izid upon bie bier, inai whom Ilvsv few could feel for what he had to bear!

place might appear rendered to his ashes.

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Ye Alps, which view'd him in his dawning flights The conqueror's yet unbroken heart! Again
Hover the victor of a hundred fights !

The horn of Roland sounds, and not in vain.
Thou Rome, who saw'st thy Cæsar's deeds outdonc! Lutzen, where fell the Swede of victory,
Alas! why pass'd he too the Rubicon ?

Beholds him conquer, but, alas! not die : The Rubicon of man's awaken'd rights,

Dresden surveys three despots fly once more To herd with vulgar kings and parasites ?

Before their sovereign,-sovereign, as be.ore; Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose But there exhausted Fortune quits their field, Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, And Leipsic's treason bids the unvanquish'd yield; And shook within her pyramids to hear

The Saxon jackal leaves the lion's side A new Cambyses thundering in their ear;

To turn the bear's, and wolf's, and for's guide ; While the dark shades of forty ages stood

And backward to the den of his despair
Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood; The forest monarch shrinks, but finds no lair !
Or from the pyramid's tall pinnacle

Oh ye! and each, and all! oh, France ! who found Beheld the desert peopled, as from hell,

Thy long fair fields plough'd up as hostile ground, With clashing hosts, who strew'd the barren sand Disputed foot by foot, till treason, still To re-manure the uncultivated land!

His only victor, from Montmartre's hill Spain! which, a moment mindless of the Cid, Look'd down o'er trampled Paris, and thon, isle, Beheld his banner flouting thy Madrid !

Which see'st Etruria froni thy ramparts smile, Austria! which saw thy twice-ta'en capital The momentary shelter of his pride, Twice spared, to be the traitress of his fall! Till, woo'd by danger, his yet weeping bride; Ye race of Frederic !-Frederics but in name Oh, France ! retaken by a single march, And falsehood-heirs to all except his fame ; Whose path was through one long triumphal arch! Who, crush'd at Jena, crouch'd at Berlin, fell, Oh, bloody and most bootless Waterloo, First, and but rose to follow; ye who dwell Which prove how fools may have their fortune too, Where Kosciusko dwelt, remembering yet

Won, half by blunder, half by treachery ; 'The unpaid amount of Catherine's bloody debt! Oh, dull Saint Helen! with thy jailor nighPoland! o'er which the avenging angel pass'd, Hear! hear! Prometheus' from his rock appeal But left thee as he found thee, still a waste : To earth, air, ocean, all that felt or feel Forga tting all thy still enduring claim,

His power and glory, all who yet shall hear
Thy lotted people and extinguish'd name;

A name eternal as the rolling year;
Thy sigh for freedom, thy long-flowing tear, He teaches them the lesson taught so long,
That sound that crashes in the tyrant's ear:

So oft, so vainly-learn to do no wrong!
Kosciusko! on-on-on-the thirst of war

A single step into the right had made
Gasps for the gore of serfs and of their czar; This man the Washington of worlds betray'd ;
The half-barbaric Moscow's minarets

A single step into the wrong has given
Gleam in the sun, but 't is a sun that sets !

His name a doubt to all the winds of heaven;
Moscow! thou limit of his long career,

The reed of fortune and of thrones the rod,
For which rude Charles had wept his frozen tear of faine the Moloch or the derni-god ;
To see in vain-he saw thee-how! with spire His country's Cæsar, Europe's Hannibal,
And palace fuel to one common fire.

Without their decent dignity of fall.
To this the soldier lent his kindling match,

Yet vanity herself had better taught To this the peasant gave his cottage thatch,

A surer path even to the fame he sought, To this the merchant flung his hoarded store, By pointing out on history's fruitless page, The prince his hall—and Moscow was no more! Ten thousand conquerors for a single sage. Sublimest of volcanos ! Etna's flame

While Franklin's quiet memory climbs to heaven, Pales before thine, and quenchless Hecla's tame; Calming the lightning which he thence hath riven, Vesuvius shows his blaze, an usual sight

Or drawing from the no less kindled earth For gasping tourists, from his hackney'd height: Freedom and peace to that which boasts his birth Thou stand'st alone unrivall’d, till the fire

While Washington 's a watch-word, such as ne'e 'To come, in which all empires shall expire.

Shall sink while there's an echo left to air : Thou other element ! as strong and stem

While even the Spaniard's thirst of gold and war To teach a lesson conquerors will not learn,

Forgets Pizarro to shout Bolivar!
Whose icy wing Alapp'd o'er the faltering foe, Alas! why must the same Adantic wave
Till fell a hero with each flake of snow;

Which wafted freedom gird a tyrant's grave, -
How did thy numbing beak and silent fang

The king of kings, and yet of slaves the slave, Pierce, till hosts perish'd with a single pang!

Who burst the chains of millions lo renew In vain shall Seine look up along his banks

The very fetters which his arm broke through,
For the gay thousands of his dashing ranks;

And crush'd the rights of Europe and his own
In vain shall France recall beneath her vines To fit between a dungeon and a throne?
Her youth-their blood flows faster than her wines,

Ir stagnant in their human ice remains
In frozen mummies on the polar plains.

But 't will not be--the spark's awaken't-lo!
In vain wi! Italy's broad sun awaken

The swarthy Spaniard feels his former glow; ller offspring chill'd—its beams are now forsaken.

I refer the reader to the first address of Prometheus tu Of all the trophies gather'd from the war,

Æschylus, when he is left alone by his attendants, and belum What shall return? The conqueror's broken car!

the arrival of the Chorus of Sea-nymphs.

The same high spirit which beat back the Moor That seed is sown and reap'd, as of the Moor
Through eight long ages of alternate gore,

Sighs to remember on his dusky shore.
Revives—and where? in that avenging clime Long in the peasant's song or poet's page
Where Spain was once synonymous with crime, Has dwelt the memory of Abencerage,
Where Cortes' and Pizarro's banner flew,

The Zegri, and the captive victors, flung The infant world redeems her name of " New." Back to the barbarous realm from whence they sprung. 'Tis the old aspiration breathed afresh,

But these are gone-their faith, their swords, their sway To, kindle souls within degraded flesh,

Yet left more anti-christian foes than they :
Such as repulsed the Persian from the shore The bigot monarch and the butcher priest,
Where Greece was-No! she still is Greece once more. The inquisition, with her burning feast,
One common cause makes myriads of one breast ! The faith's red “ auto,” fed with human fuel,
Slaves of the east, or Helots of the west;

While sat the Catholic Moloch, calmly cruel,
On Andes' and on Athos' peaks unfurld,

Enjoying, with inexorable eye,
The self-same standard streams o'er either world : That fiery festival of agony !
The Athenian wears again Harmodius' sword; The stern or feeble sovereign, one or both
The Chili chief abjures his foreign lord;

By turns; the haughtiness whose pride was sloth;
The Spartan knows himself once more a Greek; The long-degenerate noble; the debased
Young Freedom plumes the crest of each Cacique; Hidalgo, and the peasant less disgraced
Debating despots, hemm'd on either shore,

But more degraded ; the unpeopled realm; Shrink vainly from the roused Atlantic's roar : The once proud navy which forgot the helm ; Through Calpe's strait the rolling tides advance, The once impervious phalanx disarray'd; Sweep lightly by the half-tamed land of France, The idle forge that form’d Toledo's blade ; Dash o'er the old Spaniard's cradle, and would fain The foreign wealth that flow'd on every shore, l'nite Ausonia to the mighty main :

Save hers who earn'd it with the natives' gore; But driven from thence awhile, yet not for aye, The very language, which might vie with Rome's, Break o'er the Ægean, mindful of the day

And once was known to nations like their homes, Of Salamis—there, there the waves arise,

Neglected or forgotten :-such was Spain; Not to be lulld by tyrant victories.

But such she is not, nor shall be again.
Lone, lost, abandon'd in their utmost need

These worst, these home invaders, felt and feel
By Christians unto whom they gave their creed, The new Numantine soul of old Castile.
The desolated lands, the ravaged isle,

Up! up again! undaunted Tauridor!
The fuster'd feud encouraged to beguile,

The bull of Phalaris renews his roar; The aid evaded, and the cold delay,

Mound, chivalrous Hidalgo! not in vain Prolong'd but in the hope to make a prey;

Revive the cry—“Iago! and close Spam!" These, these shall teil the tale, and Greece can show Yes, close her with your armed bosoms round, lhe false friend worse than the infuriate foe.

And form the barrier which Napoleon found, -
But this is well: Greeks only should free Greece, The exterminating war; the desert plain;
Not the barbarian, with his mask of


The streets without a tenant, save the slain ; llow should the autocrat of bondage be

The wild Sierra, with its wilder troop The king of serfs, and set the nations free?

Of vulture-plumed guerillas, on the stoop Better still serve the haughty Mussulman,

For their incessant prey; the desperate wall Than swell the Cossaque's prowling caravan;

Of Saragossa, mightiest in her fall; Betier still toil for masters, than await,

The man nerved to a spirit, and the maid The slave of slaves, before a Russian gate,- Waving her more than Amazonian blade ; Number'd by hordes, a human capital,

The knife of Arrayon,? Toledo's steel ; A live estate, existing but for thrall,

Th famous lance chivalrous Castile; Lotted by thousands as a meet reward

The unerring rifle of the Catalan; For the first courtier in the czar's regard;

The Andalusian courser in the van ; While their immediate owner never lastes

The torch to make a Moscow of Madrid ; His sleep, sans dreaming of Siberia's wastes; And in each heart the spirit of the Cid:Befter succumb even to their own despair,

Such have been, such shall be, such are. Advance, And drive the camel than purvey the bear.

And win-not Spain, but thine own freedom, Franco VII.

VIII. But not alone within the hoariest clime,

But lo! a congress! What, that hallow'd name Where freedom dates her birth with that of time; Which freed the Atlantic? May we hope the same Ani not alone where plunged in night, a crowd For outworp Europe ? With the sound arise, Of Incas darken to a dubious cloud,

Like Samuel's shade to Saul's monarchic eyes, The dawn revives; renown’d, romantic Spain The prophets of young freedom, summon’d far H bis back the invader from her soil again.

From climes of Washington and Bolivar ; Not now the Roman tribe nor Punic horde,

Henry, the forest-born Demosthenes, Demand her fields as lists to prove the sword; Whose thunder shook the Philip of the seas; Nint now the Vandal or the Visigoth

1 “St. lago! and close Spain!" the old Spanish war cry Pulivate the plains, alike abhorring both;

2 The Arragonians are peculiarly dexterous in the risen Nor old Pelayo on his mountain rears

this weapon, and displayed it parucularly in former french The warlike fathers of a thousand years.


And stoic Franklin's energetic shade,

How nobly gave he back the Poles their Diet, Robed in the huhtnings which his hand allay'd; Then told pugnacious Poland to be quiet! And Washington, the tyrant-tamer, wake,

How kindly would he send the mild Ukraine,
Co bid us blush for these old chains, or break. With all her pleasant pulks, lo lecture Spain;
But who compose this senate of the few

How royally show off in proud Madrid
That should redeem the many? Who renew His goodly person, from the south long hid, -
This consecrated name, till now assign'd

A Wessing cheaply purchased, the world knows, To councils held to benefit mankind ?

By having Muscovites for friends or foes. Who now assemble at the holy call ?

Proceed, thou namesake of great Philip's son! The bless'd alliance which says three are all ! La Harpe, thine Aristotle, beckons on ; An earthly trinity! which wears the shape

And that which Scythia was to him of yore, Or Heaven's, as man is mimick'd by the ape. Find with thy Scythians on Iberia's shore. A pious unity! in purpose one,

Yet think upon, thou somewhat aged youth, To melt three fools to a Napoleon.

Thy predecessor on the banks of Pruth:
Why, Egypt's gods were rational to these;

Thou hast to aid thee, should his lot be thine,
Their dogs and oxen knew their own degrees, Many an old woman, but no Catherine.
And, quiet in their kennel or their shed,

Spain too hath rocks, and rivers, and defiles-
Cared little, so that they were duly fed :

The bear may rush into the lion's toils. But these, more hungry, must have something more Fatal to Goths are Xeres' sunny fields ; The power to bark and bite, to toss and


Think'st thou to thee Napoleon's victor yields ? Ah, how much happier were good Æsop's frogs Better reclaim thy deserts, turn thy swords Than we! for ours are animated logs,

To ploughshares, shave and wash thy Bashkir hording With ponderous malice swaying to and fro,

Redeem thy realms from slavery and the knout, And crushing nations with a stupid blow,

Than follow headlong in the fatal route, All dully anxious to leave little work

To infest the clime, whose skies and laws are pure, Unto the revolutionary slork.

With thy foul legions. Spain wants no manure;

Her soil is fertile, but she feeds no foe;

Her vultures, too, were gorged not long ago : Thrice bless'd Verona ! since the holy three And wouldst thou furnish them with fresher prey? With their imperial presence shine on thee; Alas! thou wilt not conquer, but purvey. Honour'd by thein, thy treacherous site forgets

I am Diogenes, though Russ and Hun The vaunted tomb of " all the Capulets ;"

Stand between mine and many a myriad's sun; Thy Scaligers-for what was “Dog the Great,"

But were I not Diogenes, I'd wander “Can' Grande" (which I venture to translate) Rather a worm than such an Alexander ! To these sublimer pugs? Thy poet too,

Be slaves who will, the Cynic shall be free; Catullus, whose old laurels yield to new;

His tub hath tougher walls than Sinopè: Thire amphitheatre, where Romans sate;

Still will he hold his lantern up to scan
And Danto's exile, shelter'a by thy gate;

The face of monarchs for an honest man."
Thy good old man,' whose world was all within
Thy wall, nor knew the country held him in:

Would that the royal guests it girds about

And what doth Gaul, the all-prolific land
Were so far like, as never to get out!

Of ne plus ultra Ultras and their band
Ay, shout! inscribe! rear monuments of shame, Of mercenaries? and her noisy Chambers,
To teli oppression that the world is tame!

And tribune which euch orator first clambers, Crowd to the theatre with loyal rage

Before he finds a voice, and, when 't is found, The comedy is not upon the stage ;

Hears “the lie" echo for his answer round? The show is rich in ribbonry and stars

Our British Commons sometimes deign to hear; Then gaze upon it through thy dungeon bars; A Gallic senate hath more tongue than ear; Clasp thy permitted palms, kind Italy,

Even Constant, their sole master of debate, For thus much still thy fetter'd hands are free! Must fight next day, his speech to vindicate. X.

But this costs little to iruo Franks, who had rather

Coinbat than listen, were it to their father. Resplendent sight! hehold the coxcomb czar,

What is the simple standing of a shot, The autocrat of waltzes and of war!

To listening long and interrupting not ? As enger for a plaudit as a realm,

| Though this was not the method of old Rome, And just as tit for flirting as the helm;

When Tully fulmined o'cr each vocal dome, A Catmuck beauty with a Cossack wit,

Demosthenes has sanction'd the transaction, And generous spirit when 't is not frost-bit;

In saying eloquence meant “ Action, action!" Now half-dissolving to a liberal thaw, But harden'd back whene'er the morning's raw;

XII. With no objection to true liberty,

But where's the monarch? hath he dined ? or yet Except that it would make the nations free.

Groans beneath indigestion's heavy debt ?
How well the imperial dandy prates of peace,
Jieu fain, if Greeks would be his slaves, free Greece!

1 The dexterity of Catherine extricated Peter (called the

Great by courtesy) when surrounded by the Mussulman ud I The famous old man of Verona.

the banks of the river Pruth.


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