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a remembered friend. There is, accordingly, idle and occupied world, it is of all others no living poet, we believe, whose advertise- perhaps the kind of poetry best fitted to win ment excites greater expectation than Mr. on our softer hours, and to sink deep into vaCampbell's:-and a new poem from him is cant bosoms—unlocking all the sources of waited for with even more eagerness (as it is fond recollection, and leading us gently on certainly for a much longer time) than a new through the mazes of deep and engrossing novel from the author of Waverley: Like all meditation—and thus ministering to a deeper other human felicities, however, this high ex- enchantment and more lasting delight than pectation and prepared homage has its draw- can ever be inspired by the more importunate backs and its dangers. A popular author, as strains of more ambitious authors. we have been led to remark on former occa- There are no doubt peculiar and perhaps sions, has no rival so formidable as his former insuperable difficulties in the management of self—and no comparison to sustain half so themes so delicate, and requiring so fine and dangerous as that which is always made be- so restrained a hand-nor are we prepared to tween the average merit of his new work, and say that Mr. Campbell has on this occasion the remembered beauties—for little else is entirely escaped them. There are passages ever remembered—of his old ones.

that are somewhat fade : there are expresHow this comparison will result in the sions that are trivial:—But the prevailing present instance, we do not presume to pre- character is sweetness and beauty; and it dict with confidence—but we doubt whether prevails over all that is opposed to it. The it will be, at least in the beginning, altogether story, though abundantly simple, as our readin favour of the volume before us. The ers will immediately see, has two distinct poems of this author, indeed, are generally compartments--one relating to the Swiss more admired the more they are studied, and maiden, the other to the English wise. The rise in our estimation in proportion as they former, with all its accompaniments, we think become familiar. Their novelty, therefore, is nearly perfect. It is full of tenderness, purity, always rather an obstruction than a help to and pity; and finished with the most exquisite their popularity ;-and it may well be ques- elegance, in sew and simple touches. The tioned, whether there be any thing in the other, which is the least considerable, has novelties now before us that can rival in our more decided blemishes. The diction is in affections the long-remembered beauties of many places too familiar, and the incidents the Pleasures of Hope-of Gertrude-of too common-and the cause of distress has O'Connor's Child-the Song of Linden—The the double misfortune of being unpoetical in Mariners of Englandand the many other its nature, and improbable in its result. But enchanting melodies that are ever present to the shortest way is to give our readers a slight the minds of all lovers of poetry.

account of the poem, with such specimens as The leading piece in the present volume is may enable them to judge fairly of it for an attempt at a very difficult kind of poetry; themselves. and one in which the most complete success It opens, poetically, with the description can hardly ever be so splendid and striking as of a fine scene in Switzerland, and of a rustic to make amends for the difficulty. It is en-church-yard; where the friend of the author titled “a Domestic Story'' —and it is so ;- points out to him the flowery grave of a turning upon few incidents-embracing few maiden, who, though gentle and fair, had died characters—dealing in no marvels and no of unrequited love :-and so they proceed, beterrors—displaying no stormy passions. With- tween them, for the matter is left poetically out complication of plot, in short, or hurry of obscure, to her history. Her fancy had been action—with no atrocities to shudder at, or early captivated by the tales of heroic daring feats of noble daring to stir the spirits of the and chivalric pride, with which her country's ambitious-it passes quietly on, through the annals abounded-and she disdained to give shaded paths of private life, conversing with her love to any one who was not graced with gentle natures and patient sufferings—and un- the virtues and glories of those heroic times. folding, with serene pity and sober triumph, This exalted mood was unluckily fostered by the pangs which are fated at times to wring her brother's youthful ardour in praise of the the breast of innocence and generosity, and commander under whom he was serving the courage and comfort which generosity and abroad—by whom he was kindly tended when innocence can'never fail to bestow. The wounded, and whose picture he brought back taste and the feeling which led to the selec- with him on his return to his paternal home, tion of such topics, could not but impress their to renew, and seemingly to realize, the daycharacter on the style in which they are dreams of his romantic sister. This picture, treated. It is distinguished accordingly by a and the stories her brother told of the noblé fine and tender finish, both of thought and of Theodric, completed the poor girl's fascinadiction—by a chastened elegance of words tion. Her heart was kindled by her fancy; and images—a mild dignity and tempered and her love was already fixed on a being she pathos in the sentiments, and a general tone had never seen! In the mean time, Theodric, of simplicity and directness in the conduct of who had promised a visit to his young protegé, the story, which, joined to its great brevity, passes over to England, and is betrothed to a tends at first perhaps to disguise both the lady of that country of infinite worth and richness and the force of the genius required amiableness. He then repairs to Switzerland, for its production. But though not calculated where, after a little time, he discovers the to strike at once on the dull palled ear of an love of Julia, which he gently, but firmly re

bukes-returns to England, and is married. I O'er clust'ring trees and restice-mantling vines. His wile has uncomfortable relations—quarrel. As gay as ever, the laburnum's pride Iglide some, selfish, and envious; and her peace is Waves oer each walk where she was wont to sumetimes wounded by their dissensions and As lovely blooms, though trode by strangers now. unkindness. War breaks out anew, too, in How oft from yonder window o'er the lake. Theodric's country; and as he is meditating Her song, of wild Helvetian swell and shake, a journey to that quarter, he is surprised by a Has made the rudest fisher bend his ear, visit from Julia's brother, who informs him, And rest enchanted on his oar to hear! that

, after a long struggle with her cherished Well-born, and wealthy for that simple land, love, her health had at last sunk under it, and Why had no gallant native vouth the art that she now prayed only to see him once to win so warm-so exquisue a hear!! more before she died! His wife generously She, midst these rocks inspir'd with feeling strong urges him to comply with this piteous request. By mountain-freedom-music-fancy-song, He does so ; and arrives, in the midst of wintry Herselt descended from the brave in arms. tempests, to see this pure victim of too warm Dreamt of Heroic beings; boped to find

And conscious of romance-inspiring charms, an imagination expire, in smiles of speechless Some extant spirit of chivalne kind; gratitude and love. While mourning over And scorning wealth, look d cold er'n on the claim her, he is appalled by tidings of the dangerous Of manly worth, that lack'd the wreath of Fame.'" illness of his beloved Constance-hurries to

pp. 3–7. England--and finds her dead !-her fate hav. We pass over the animated picture of the ing been precipitated, if not occasioned, by brother's campaigus, and of the fame of These the harsh and violent treatment she had met dric, and the affectionate gratitude of parents with from her heartless relations. The piece and sister for his care and praises of their closes with a very touching letter she had left noble boy. We must make room, howeret, for her husband-and an account of its sooth- for this beautiful sketch of his relurn. ing effects on his mind. This, we confess , is slight enough, in the Resum d his barb and banner in the field.

" In time, the stripling, vigorous and healid, way of fable and incident: But it is not in And bore himself right soldier-lihe, till now those things that the merit of such poems The third campaign had manlier bronz'd his brow; consists; and what we have given is of course When peace, though but a scanty pause for breatha mere naked outline, or argument rather, A curtain-drop between the acts of deathintended only to explain and connect our Yet dearly bought, and direly welcome. came.

A check in frantic war's unfinished game. extracts.

The camp broke up, and Udolph lele his chief For these, we cannot possibly do better As with a son's or younger brother's grief: than begin with the beginning.

But journeying home, how rape his spirits rose!

How light his footsteps crush d'St. Gothard's snows! "'Twas sunset, and the Ranz des Vaches was sung, How dear seem'd ev'n the waste and wild Shrecs. And lights were o'er th' Helvetian mountains flung, horn, That gave the glacier tops their richest glow, Though wrapt in clouds, and frowning as in scora, And ting'd the lakes like molten gold below. Upon a downward world of pastoral charms; Warmth fush'd she wonted regions of the storm, Where, by the very smell of dairy-farms, Where, Phenix-like, you saw the eagle's form, And fragrance from the mountain-herbage blown, That high in Heav'ns vermilion wheeld and soar'd! Blindfold his native hills he could have known ! Woods nearer frown'd; and cataracts dash'd and roar'd,

* His coming down yon lake-his boat in view From heights brouzed by the bounding bouquetin; The arms spread out for him—the tears ths: burst

Or windows where love's flutt'ring kerchief flew Herds tinkling roam'd ihe long-drawn vales bel('Twas Julia's, 'was his sister's met him firsi :) And hamlets glitter'd white, and gardens flourish'd Their pride to see war's medal at his breast. 'Twas transport to inhale the bright sweet air !

And all their raplure's greeting, may be guess'd." The mountain-bee was revelling in iis glare,

pp. 12, 13 And roving with his minstrelsy across

At last the generous warrior appears in perThe scented wild weeds, and enamell'd moss. son among those innocent beings to whom he Earth's features so harmoniously were link'd,

had so long fumished the grand theme of disShe seem'd one great glad form, with life instinct, That felt Heav'n's ardent breath, and smil'd below

course and meditation. Its flush of love with consentaneous glow.

“ The boy was half beside himself-the site, A Gothic church was near; the spot around All frankness, honour, and Helvetian fire, Was beautiful, ev'n though sepulchral ground; Of speedy parting would not bear him speak; For there nor yew nor cypress spread their gloom, And tears bedewd and brightend Julia's cheek. But roses blossom'd by each rustic tomb. Amidst them one of spotless marble shone

“ Thus, loth 10 wound their hospitable pride, A maiden's grave--and 'twas inscrib'd thereon, A month he promis'd with them to abide ; That young and lov'd she died whose dust was

As blithe he irod the mountain-sward as ihey. There :

And felt his joy make ev'n the young more gay. “Yes.' said my comrade, 'young she died, and How jocund was their breakfast parlour, fannid fair!

By yon blue water's breath-heir walks how Grace form'd her, and the soul of gladness play'd

bland! Once in the blue eyes of that mountain-maid !

Fair Julia seem'd her broiher's soften'd sprite Her fingers witch'd the chords they passed along,

A gem reflecting Nature's purest lightAnd her lips seem'd to kiss the soul in song:

And with her graceful wit ihere was in wrought Yet woo'd and worshipp'd as she was, till few

A wildly sweei unworldliness of thought, Aspir'd to bope, 'twas sadly, strangely true,

That almost child-like to his kindness drew, That heart, the mariyr ofits fondness burn'd

And twain with l'dolph in his friendship grew. And died of love that could not be retorn'd.

But did his thoughts to love one moment rangel

No! he who had lov'd Constance could not change "Her father dwelt where yonder Castle shines Besides, till grief betray'd her godesign'd.


p. 25.


pp. 35, 36.

Th' unlikely thought could scarcely reach his mind, To share existence with her, and to gain
That eyes so young on years like his should beam Sparks from her love's electrifying chain,
Unwoo'd devotion back for pure esteer."

Of that pure pride, which, less'ning to her breast pp. 17, 18,

Life's ills, gave all its joys a treble zest,

Before the wind completely understood Symptoms still more unequivocal, however, that mighty ruth-how happy are the good!" at last make explanations necessary; and he is obliged to disclose to her the secret of his

All this, we think, is dignified enough for love and engagement in England. The effects of this disclosure, and all the intermediate poetry of any description; but we really canevents, are described with the same grace

not extend the same indulgence to the small and delicacy. But we pass at once to the tracassaries of this noble creature's unworthy

relations—their peevish quarrels, and her close of poor Julia's pure-hearted

painful attempts to reconcile them-her hus" That winter's eve how darkly Nature's brow band's grudges at her absence on those erScowl'd on the scenes in lights so lovely now! rands—their teazing visits to him—and his The tempest, raging o'er i he realms of ice,

vexation at their false reports that she was to Shook fragments from the rifted precipice; And whilst their falling echoed to the wind,

spend “yet a fortnight” away from him. We The wolf's long howl in dismal discord join'd, object equally to the substance and the dicWhile white yon water's foam was rais'd in clouds tion of the passages to which we now refer. That whirl'd like spirits wailing in their shrouds : There is something questionable even in the Without was Nature's elemental din

fatal indications by which, on approaching And Beauty died, and Friendship wept within !

his home, he was first made aware of the "Sweet Julia, though her fate was finish'd half, calamity which had befallen him—though Still knew him-smilā on him with feeble laugh- undoubtedly there is a terrible truth and imAnd blest him, till she drew her latest sigh!

pressive brevity in the passage. “ But lo! while Udolph's bursts of agony, And age's tremulous wailings, round him rose,

"Nor hope left utterly his breast, What accents pierced him deeper yer than those ! Till reaching home, terrific omen! there 'Twas tidings—by his English messenger

The straw-laid street preluded his despairOf Constance--brief and ierrible they were," &c. The servant's look-ihe table that reveal'd

His letter sent to Constance last, still seal'd, These must suffice as specimens of the That he had now to suffer-not to fear!"-p. 37.

Though speech and hearing left him, told too clear Swiss part of the poem, which we have already said we consider as on the whole the We shall only add the pathetic letter in most perfect. The English portion is un- which this noble spirit sought, from her deathdoubtedly liable to the imputation of being bed, to soothe the beloved husband she was occupied with scenes too familiar, and events leaving with so much reluctance. too trivial, to admit of the higher embellish

" Theodric! this is destiny above ments of poetry. The occasion of Theodric's Our power to baffle! Bear it then, my love ! first seeing Constance—in the streets of Lon- Your soul, I know, as firm is knit io mine don on a night of public rejoicing-certainly As these clasp'd hands in blessing you now join : trespasses on the borders of this wilful stoop- Shape not imagin’d horrors in my faceing of the Muses' flight—though the scene And when your griel's first transports shall sub

Ev'n now my suff'rings are not very great; itself is described with great force and beauty. I call upon your sirength of soul and pride (side, "'Twas a glorious sight!

To pay my memory, il 'lis worıh the debt At eve stupendous London, clad in light,

Love's glorifying tribute-not forlorn regret : Pour'd oui triumphant multitudes to gaze;

I charge my name with power to conjure up Youth,

Reflection's balmy, not its bitter cup. age, wealth, penury, smiling in the blaze! Th' illumin'd atmosphere was warm and bland,

My pard'ning angel, at the gates of Heaven, And Beauty's groups the fairest of the land,

Shall look not more regard ihan you have given Conspicuous, as in some wide festive room,

To me: and our life's union has been clad In open chariots pass’d, with pearl and plume.

In smiles of bliss as sweet as life e'er had.
Amidst them he remark'd a lovelier mien," &c.

Shall gloom be from such bright remembrance cast?
Shall bitterness outflow from sweetness past?

No! imaged in the sanctuary of your breast,
The description of Constance herself, how- There let me smile, amidst high thoughts at rest ;

is not liable to this, or to any other ob- and let contentment on your spirit shine, jection.

As if its peace were still a part of mine :

For if you war not proudly with your pain,
“ And to know her well For you I shall have worse than liv'd in vain.
Prolong'd, exalted, bound, enchantment's spell; But I conjure your manliness to bear
For with affections warm, intense, refin'd,

My loss with noble spirit—not despair :
She mix'd such calm and holy strength of mind, I ask you by our love to promise this!
That, like Heav'n's image in the smiling brook, And kiss these words, where I have left a kiss-
Celestial peace was pictur’d in her look.

The latest from my living lips for yours?'” Hers was the brow, in trials unperplex'd,

pp. 39–41. That cheer'd the sad and tranquilliz'd the vex'd. She studied not the meanest to eclipse,

The tone of this tender farewell must reAnd yet the wisest listen'd to her lips ;

mind all our readers of the catastrophe of She sang not, knew not Music's magic skill, Gertrude; and certainly exposes the author to But yet her voice had tones that sway'd the will."

the charge of some poverty of invention in .-" To paint that being to a grov’ling mind

the structure of his pathetic narrativesma Were like pourtraying pictures to the blind.

p. 15.


charge from which we are not at this moment 'Twas needful ev'n infectiously to feel

particularly solicitous to defend him. Her temper's fond, and firm, and gladsome zeal, The minor poems which occupy the rest of

p. 16.

the volume are of various character, and of Your hangman fingers cannot touch his fame. course of unequal merit; though all of them Still in your prostrate land there shall be some are marked by that exquisite melody of ver- Long trains of ill may pass unheeded, dumb,

Proud hearts, the shrines of Freedom's vesialflame. sification, and general felicity of diction, But Vengeance is behind, and Justice is to come.” which makes the mere recitation of their

pp. 78–81. words a luxury to readers of taste, even when they pay but little attention to iheir sense.

Mr. Campbell's muse, however, is by no Most of them, we believe, have already ap

means habitually political; and the greater peared in occasional publications, though it is part of the pieces in this volume have a purely quite time that they should be collected and moral or poetical character. The exquisite engrossed in a less perishable record. If stanzas to the Rainbow, we believe, are in they are less brilliant, on the whole, than the every body's hands; but we cannot resist the most exquisite productions of the author's temptation of transcribing the latter part of

them. earlier days, they are generally marked, we think, by greater solemnity and depth of

“ When o'er the green undelug'd earth thought, a vein of deeper reflection, and more Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, intense sympathy with human feelings, and, How came the world's grey fathers forth if possible, by a more resolute and entire de- To watch ihy sacred sign? votion to the cause of liberty. Mr. Campbell, " And when its yellow lustre smild we rejoice to say, is not among those poets

O'er mountains yet untrod, whose hatred of oppression has been chilled

Each mother held alost her child

To bless the bow of God! by the lapse of years, or allayed by the suggestions of a base self-interest. He has held • Methinks, thy jubilee to keep, on his course through good and through bad

The first-made anthem rang,

On earth deliver'd from the deep, report, unseduced, unterrified; and is now

And the first poet sang. found' in his duty, testifying as fearlessly against the invaders of Spain, in the volume

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye before us, as he did against the spoilers of

Unraptur'd greet thy beam :

Theme of primeval prophecy, Poland in the very first of his publications. It

Be still the poet's iheme! is a proud thing indeed for England, for poetry, and for mankind, that all the illustrious poets

“The earth to thee her incense yields,

The lark thy welcome sings, of the present day—Byron, Moore, Rogers,

When glitt'ring in the freshen’d fields Campbell-are distinguished by their zeal for The snowy mushroom springs ! freedom, and their scorn for courtly adula

“ How glorious is thy girdle cast tion; while those who have deserted that

O'er mountain, tower, and town, manly and holy cause have, from that hour, Or mirror'd in the ocean vast, felt their inspiration withdrawn, their harp- A thousand fathoms down! strings broken, and the fire quenched in their

“ As fresh in yon horizon dark, censers! Even the Laureate, since his un

As young thy beauties seem, happy Vision of Judgment, has ceased to As when the eagle from the ark sing; and fallen into undutiful as well as First sported in thy beam. ignoble silence, even on court festivals. As · For, faithful to its sacred page, a specimen of the tone in which an unbought

Heaven still rebuilds thy span, Muse can yet address herself to public

Nor lets thy type grow pale with age themes, we subjoin a few stanzas of a noble

That first spoke peace to man. ode to the Memory of the Spanish Patriots

pp. 52-55. who died in resisting the late atrocious inva- The beautiful verses on Mr. Kemble's resion.

tirement from the stage afford a very re“ Brave men who at the l'rocadero fell

markable illustration of the tendency of Mr. Beside your cannongconquer'd not, though slain! Campbell's genius to raise ordinary themes There is a victory in dying well

into occasions of pathetic poetry, and to invest For Freedom-and ye have not died in vain ; trivial occurrences with the mantle of solemn For come what may, there shall be hearts in Spain thought. We add a few of the stanzas. To honour, ay, embrace your martyr'd lot, Cursing the Bigot's and the Bourbon's chain,

“ His was the spell o'er hearts And looking on your graves, though trophied not. Which only acting lendsAs holier, hallow'd ground than priests could make the spot !"

The youngest of the sister Arts,

Where all their beauty blends : " Yet laugh not in your carnival of crime

For ill can Poetry express, Too proudly, ye oppressors !-Spain was free;

Full many a tone of thought sublime, Her soil has selt the fooi-prints, and her clime

And Painting, mute and motionless, Been winnow'd by the wings of Liberiy!

Steals but a glance of time. And these, eren pariing, scatter as they flee

But by the mighty Actor brought, Thoughts-influences, to live in hearis unborn,

Illusion's perfect triumphs comeOpinions that shall wrench ihe prison-key

Verse ceases to be airy thought, From Persecution-show her mask off-torn,

And Sculpture to be dumb." And tramp her bloated head beneath the foot of

“ High were the task--100 high, Scorn.

Ye conscious bosoms here! “ Glory to them that die in this great cause !

In words to paint your memory Kings, Bigots, can inflict no brand of shame.

Of Kemble and of Lear! Or shape of death, to shroud them from applause :- But who forgeis that white discrowned head, No!-manglers of the martyr's earthly frame ! Those bursts of Reason's half-extinguish'd glare ;

Those tears upon Cordelia's bosom shed, case, he prefer other employments to the In doubt more touching than despair,

feverish occupation of poetry, he has a right If 'twas reality he felt ?"

surely to choose his employments—and is " And there was many an hour

more likely to choose well

, than the herd of or blended kindred fame,

his officious advisers. For our own parts, When Siddons's auxiliar power

we are ready at all times to hail his appearAnd sister magic came. Together at the Muse's side

ances with delight—but we wait for them The tragic paragons had grown

with respect and patience; and conceive that They were the children of her pride, we have no title to accelerate them by our The columns of her throne !

And undivided favour ran

Before concluding, we would wish also to
From heart to heart in their applause,
Save for the gallantry of man,

protect him against another kind of injustice. In lovelier woman's cause."'--pp. 64-67.

Comparing the small bulk of his publications

with the length of time that elapses between We have great difficulty in resisting the them, people are apt to wonder that so little temptation to go on : But in conscience we has been produced after so long an incubamust stop here. We are ashamed, indeed, tion, and that poems are not better which are to think how considerable a proportion of this the work of so many years—absurdly suppolittle volume we have already transferred into sing, that the ingenious author is actually our extracts. Nor have we much to say of labouring all the while at what he at last the poems we have not extracted. “The produces, and has been diligently at work Ritter Bann” and “Reullura" are the two during the whole interval in perfecting that longest pieces, after Theodric—but we think which is at last discovered to fall short of not the most successful. Some of the songs perfection! To those who know the habits are exquisite—and most of the occasional of literary men, nothing however can be more poems too good for occasions.

ridiculous than this supposition. Your true The volume is very small-and it contains drudges, with whom all that is intellectual all that the distinguished author has written moves most wretchedly slow, are the quickest for many years. We regret this certainly :- and most regular with their publications ; but we do not presume to complain of it. while men of genius, whose thoughts play The service of the Muses is a free service, with the ease and rapidity of lightning, often and all that we receive from their votaries is seem tardy to the public, because there are a free gist, for which we are bound to them long intervals between the flashes! We are in gratitude-not a tribute, for the tardy far from undervaluing that care and labour rendering of which they are to be threatened without which no finished performance can or distrained. They stand to the public in ever be produced by mortals, and still farther the relation of benefactors, not of debtors. from thinking it a reproach to any author, They shower their largesses on unthankful that he takes pains to render his works worthy heads; and disclaim the trammels of any of his fame. But when the slowness and the sordid contract. They are not articled clerks, size of his publications are invidiously put in short, whom we are entitled to scold for together in order to depreciate their merits, their idleness, but the liberal donors of im- or to raise a doubt as to the force of the gemortal possessions; for which they require nius that produced them, we think it right to only the easy quit-rent of our praise. If Mr. enter our caveat against a conclusion, which Campbell is lazy, therefore, he has a right to is as rash as it is ungenerous; and indicates enjoy his laziness, unmolested by our impor- a spirit rather of detraction than of reasonable tunities. If, as we rather presume is the judgment.

(April, 1805.) The Lay of the Last Minstrel: a Poem. By Walter Scott, Esq. 4to. pp. 318. Edinburgh,

Constable and Co.: London, Longman and Co.: 1805.* We consider this poem as an attempt to metrical romance. The author, enamoured transfer the refinements of modern poetry to of the lofty visions of chivalry, and partial the matter and the manner of the ancient to the strains in which they were formerly

The Novels of Sir Walter Scott have, no contemporary notices of the two poems which I doubl, cast his Poetry into the shade: And it is think produced the greatest effect at the time: the beyond question that they must always occupy the one as the first and most strikingly original of the highest and most conspicuous place in that splendid whole series : the other as being on the whole trophy which his genius has reared to his memory. The best ; and also as having led me to make some Yet, when I recollect the vehement admiration it remarks, not only on the general character of the once excited, I cannot part with the belief that author's genius, but on the peculiar perils of there is much in his poetry also, which our age very popular poetry-of which ihe time that has should not allow to be forgotten. And it is under since elapsed has afforded some curious illustra. this impression that I now venture to reprint my I tions.

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