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Dreams (the soul herself forsaking),

On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc !
Tearful raptures, boyish mirth ;

The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Silent adorations, making

Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form
A blessed shadow of this Earth!

Risest from forth thy silent Sea of Pines,

How silently! Around thee and above Oye hopes, that stir within me,

Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black,
Health comes with you from above! An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it,
God is with me, God is in me!

As with a wedge! But when I look again,
I cannot die, if Life be Love.

It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity!
o dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee,

Till thou, still present to the bodily sense;

Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer Cupid, if storying legends* tell aright,

I worshipp'd the Invisible alone.
Once framed a rich elixir of delight.
A chalice o'er love-kindled Names he fix'd,

Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
And in it nectar and ambrosia mix'd :

So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, With these the magic dews, which evening brings, Thou, the meanwhile, wası blending with my Thought, Brush'd from the Idalian star. by faery wings : Yea with my Life and Life's own secret Joy : Each tender pledge of sacred faith he join'd,

Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused,
Each gentler pleasure of the unspotted mind-

Into the mighty vision passing--there
Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow. As in her natural form, swelld vast to Heaven!
And Hope, the blameless parasite of woe.
The eyeless Chemist heard the process rise,
The steamy chalice bubbled up in sighs;

Awake, my soul! not only passive praise
Sweet sounds transpired, as when th'enamour'd dove Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
Pours the sofi murm’ring of responsive love.

Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake,
The finish'd work might Envy vainly blame, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!
And “ Kisses” was the precious compound's name.

Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.
With half the god his Cyprian mother blest,
And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.

Thou first and chief, sole Sovereign of the Vale!
O struggling with the darkness all the night,

And visited all night by troops of stars,
III. MEDITATIVE POEMS, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink :

Companion of the Morning-Star at dawn,

Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn

Co-herald: wake, 0 wake, and utter praise'
Yer, he deserves to find himself doceived,

Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who seeks a heart in the unthinking Mag.

Who fill’d thy countenance with rosy light?
Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life

Who made thee Parent of perpetual streams?
Impress their characters on the smooth forehead:
Naught sinks into the Bogom's silent depth.
Quick sensibility of Pain and Pleasure

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad!
Moves the light fluids lightly; but no soul

Who call'd you forth from night and utter death,
Warmeth the inner frame.


From dark and icy caverns callid you forth.
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,

For ever shatter'd and the same for ever?
HYMN BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE VALE Who gave you your invulnerable life,

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy Besides the Rivers Arve and Arveiron, which have their Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ? sources in the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents And who commanded (and the silence came), rush down its sides, and within a few paces of the Glaciers. Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest? the Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers, with its “ dowers of loveliest blue.'

Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's bron

Adown enormous ravines slope arnain Ilast thou a charm to stay the Morning-Star

Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty Voice,
In his steep course! So long he seems to pause

And stopp'd at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!

Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven
* Effinxit quondam blandum meditata laborem
Basin lasciva Cypria Diva mana.

Beneath the keen full Moon? Who bade the Sun Ambrosive succos occulta temperat arte,

Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flower Fragransqne infuso nectare tingit opus.

Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ?--
Sufficit et partem mellis, quod subdolus olim

God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Nou impune favis surripuisset Amor.

Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Decussos violar folus ad miscet odores
Et spolia æstivis plurima rapta rosis.

God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice
Addit et illecebras et mille et mille lepores,

Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds
Et quot Acidalius gaudia Cestus habet.

And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,
Fy his composuit Dea basia ; et omnia libang

And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!
lovenias nitider sparsa per ora Cloes
Carm. Quod. Vol. 11.



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Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost'

My native land ! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! Fill'd with the thought of thee this heart was proud Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountain-storm! Yea, mine eye swam with tears: that all the view Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! From sovran Brocken, woods and woody hills, Ye signs and wonders of the element !

Floated away, like a departing dream,
Uiter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! Feeble and dim! Stranger, these impulses

Blame thou not lightly ; nor will I profane,
Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, With hasty judgment or injurious doubt,
Oft from whose feet the Avalanche, unheard,

That man's sublimer spirit, who can feel
Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene That God is everywhere! the God who framed
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast-

Mankind to be one mighty Family, Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou

Himself our Father, and the World our Home. That as I raise my head, awhile bow'd low In adoration, upward from thy base Slow travelling with dir eyes suffused with tears,

ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM ON THE FIRST CF Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud,

FEBRUARY, 1796. To rise before me-Rise, O ever rise, Rise like a cloud of incense, from the earth! Sweet Flower! that peeping from thy russet stem Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills,

Unfoldest timidly (for in strange sort Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to Heaven, This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,

month And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising sun

Hath borrow'd Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.

With blue voluptuous eye), alas, poor Flower!
These are but Hatteries of the faithless year.
Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave,
E'en now the keen North-East is on its way.
Flower that must perish! shall I liken thee

To some sweet girl of too too rapid growth,

Nipp'd by Consumption 'mid untimely charms? WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBINGERODE, IN THE An Amaranth, which earth scarce seem'd to own,

Or to Bristowa's Bard,* the wondrous boy!

Till Disappointment came, and pelting wrong
I STOOD on Broeken'st sovran height, and saw

Beat it to earth? or with indignant grief

Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's Hope, Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills,

Bright flower of Hope kill'd in the opening bud ? A surging scene, and only limited By the blue distance. Heavily my way

Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine, Downward I dragg'd through fir-groves evermore,

And mock my boding! Dim similitudes Where bright green moss heaves in sepulchral forms From anxious SELF, Life's cruel Task-Master!

Weaving in moral strains, I've stolen one hour Speckled with sunshine; and, but seldom heard, The sweet bird's song became a hollow sound;

And the warm wooings of this sunny day

Tremble along my frame, and harmonize
And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly,
Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct

The attemper'd organ, that even saddest thoughts

Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tunes
From many a note of many a waterfall,
And the brook's chatter; 'mid whose islet stones

Play'd defily on a soft-toned instrument.
The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell
Leap'd frolicsome, or old romantic goal
Sat, his white beard slow waving. I moved on

In low and languid mood :t for I had found
That outward forms, the loftiest, still receive

COMPOSED AT CLEVEDON, SOMERSETSHIRE Their finer influence from the Life within :

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined Fair ciphers else : fair, but of import vague Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is Or unconcerning, where the Heart not finds

To sit beside our cot, our cot o'ergrown History or prophecy of Friend, or Child,

With white-lower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leaved Or gentle Maid, our first and early love,

Myrtle, Or Father, or the venerable name

(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) Of our adored Country! O thou Queen,

And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, Thou delegated Deity of Earth,

Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve O dear, dear England! how my longing eye Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom be) Turn'd westward, shaping in the steady clouds

Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents Thy sands and high white cliffs !

Snatch'd from you bean-field! and the world so


The stilly murmur of the distant Sea * The highest mountain in the Hartz, and indeed in North Tells us of Silence. Germany. t -When I have gazed

And that simplest Lute, From Britt high rmincnce on goodly vales,

Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark And e 18 and villages embower'd below,

How by the desultory breeze caress'd,
The thousit would rise that all to me was strango
Amid the scenes so fair, nor one small spot

Like some coy maid half yielding to her loof,
Vbere my tired mind might rest, and call it home.
Shen's Hymn to the Penates.

• Charterton.

It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.
Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now, its strings It was a spot which you might aptly call
Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes

The Valley of Seclusion once I saw
Over delicious surges sink and rise,

(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness) Such a soft floating witchery of sound

A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve Bristowa’s citizen: methought, it calm'd Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land,

His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse Where Melodies mund honey-dropping flowers, With wiser feelings; for he paused, and look'd Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,

With a pleased sadness, and gazed all around, Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing! Then eyed our cottage, and gazed round again, O the one life within us and abroad,

And sigh'd, and said, it was a blessed place. Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, And we were bless'd. Oft with patient ear A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note Rhythm in all thought, and joyance everywhere- |(Viewless or haply for a moment seen Methinks, it should have been impossible

Gleaming on sunny wings), in whisper'd tones Not to love all things in a world so fillid;

I've said to my beloved, “ Such, sweet girl!
Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air The inobtrusive song of Happiness,
Is Music slumbering on her instrument.

Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard

When the soul seeks to hear; when all is bush'd, And thus, my love! as on the midway slope

And the Heart listens !"
Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon,
Whilst through my half-closed eye-lids I behold

But the time, when first The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, From that low dell, steep up the stony Mount And tranquil muse upon tranquillity;

I climbid with perilous toil, and reach'd the top, Full many a thought uncall’d and undetain'd,

Oh! what a goodly scene! Here the bleak Mount, And many idle sitting phantasies,

The bare bleak Mountain speckled thin with sheep Traverse my indolent and passive brain,

Gray clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields ; As wild and various as the random gales

And River, now with bushy rocks o'erbrow'd, That swell and flutter on this subject lute!

Now winding bright and full, with naked banks ;

And Seats, and Lawns, the Abbey and the Wood, And what if all of animated nature

And Cots, and Hamlets, and faint City-spire ; Be but organic harps diversely framed,

The Channel there, the Islands and white Sails, That trembde into thought, as o'er them sweeps, Dim Coasts, and cloud-like Hills, and shoreless Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,

Ocean At once the Soul of each, and God of All?

It seem'd like Omnipresence! God, methought,

Had built him there a Temple: the whole World But thy more serious eye a mild reproof

Seem'd imaged in iis vast circumference,
Darts, O beloved woman! nor such thoughts No wish profaned my overwhelmed heart.
Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject,

Blest hour! It was a luxury,—10 be!
And biddest me walk humbly with my God.
Meek daughter in the family of Christ!
Well hast thou said and holily dispraised

Ah! quiet dell; dear cot, and Mount sublime! These shapings of the unregenerate mind;

I was constrain'd to quit you. Was it right,

While my unnumber'd brethren toild and bled, Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break

That I should dream away the intrusted hours On vain Philosophy’s aye-babbling spring.

On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart For never guiltless may I speak of him, The Incomprehensible! save when with awe

With feelings all too delicate for use?

Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels ; Who with his saving mercies healed me,

Drops on the check of One he lifts from Earth:

And He that works me good with unmoved face, A sinful and most miserable Man, Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess

Does it but half: he chills me while he aids, Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honor'd Maid !

My Benefactor, not my Brother Man!

Yet even this, this cold beneficence,
Praise, praise it, O my Soul! oft as thou scann'st
The Sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe !

Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretched REFLECTIONS ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE Nursing in some delicious solitude

Their slothful loves and dainty Sympathies !

I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand,

Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight
Sermoni propriora.- Hor.

of Science, Freedom, and the Truth in Christ.

Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest rose
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear,
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air
Our myrules blossom'd; and across the Porch
Thick jasmins twined: the little landscape round

Yet oft, when after honorable toil
Rests the tired mind, and waking loves to dream,
My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot!
Thy jasmin and thy window-peeping rose,

And myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air.
And I shall sigh fond wishes--sweet Abode!

Ah-had none greater! And that all had such!
It might be so—but the time is not yet.
Speed it, O Father! Let thy Kingdom come!

Loved as a brother, as a son revered thee!
Oh! 't is to me an ever-new delight,
To talk of thee and thine: or when the blast
of the shrill winter, rattling our rude sash,

Endears the cleanly hearth and social bowl ;
Or when as now, on some delicious eve,
We, in our sweet sequester'd orchard-plot,
Sit on the tree crooked earth ward; whose old boughs,
That hang above us in an arborous roof,
Stirr'd by the faint gale of departing May,
Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our heads!




Nor dost not thou sometimes recall those hours, Notus in fratres animi paterni.

When with the joy of hope thou gavest thine ear Hor. Carm. lib. i. 2.

To my wild firstling-lays. Since then my song

Hath sounded deeper notes, such as beseem
A BLESSED lot hath he, who having pass'd Or that sad wisdom folly leaves behind,.
His youth and early manhood in the stir

Or such as, tuned to these tumultuous times,
And turmoil of the world, retreats at length,

Cope with the tempest's swell!
With cares that move, not agitate the heart,
To the same dwelling where his father dwelt;

These various strains And haply views his totterin

little ones

Which I have framed in many a various mood, Embrace those aged knees and climb that lap,

Accept, my Brother! and (for some perchance On which first kneeling his own infancy

Will strike discordant on thy milder mind) Lisp'd its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend! If aught of Error or intemperate Truth Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy.

Should meet thine ear, think thou that riper age At distance did ye climb Life's upland road,

Will calm it down, and let thy love forgive it! Yet cheer'd and cheering: now fraternal love Hath drawn you to one centre. Be your days Holy, and blest and blessing may ye live!

INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH. To me th’Eternal Wisdom hath dispensed A different fortune and more ditterent mind- This Sycamore, ost musical with bees, Me from the spot where first I sprang to light Such tents the Patriarchs loved ! O long unharmd Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fix'd May all its aged boughs o'er-canopy Its first domestic loves ; and hence through life The small round basin, which this jutting stone Chasing chance-started Friendships. A brief while Keeps pure from falling leaves! Long may the Spring, Some have preserved me from Life's pelting ills; Quietly as a sleeping infant's breath, But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem, Send up cold waters to the traveller If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze

With soft and even pulse! Nor ever cease Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once Yon tiny cone of sand its soundless dance, Dropp'd the collected shower; and some most false, Which at the bottom, like a fairy's page, Faise and fair foliaged as the Manchineel,

As merry and no taller, dances still,
Have tempted me to slumber in their shade Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the Fount.
E'en 'mid ihe storm; then breathing subtlest damps, Here twilight is and coolness : here is moss,
Mix'd their own venom with the rain from Heaven, A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade.
That I woke poison'd! But, all praise to Him Thou mayst toil far and find no second tree.
Who gives us all things, more have yielded me Drink, Pilgrim, here! Here rest! and if thy heart
Permanent shelter; and beside one Friend,

Be innocent, here too shalt thou refresh
Beneath th' impervious covert of one Oak, Thy spirit, listening to some gentle sound,
I've raised a lowly shed, and know the names Or passing gale or hum of murmuring bees!
Of Husband and of Father; nor unhearing
Of that divine and nightly-whispering Voice,
Which from my childhood to maturer years
Spake to me of predestinated wreaths,
Bright with no fading colors !


|"T is true, Idoloclastes Satyrane!

Yet at times (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, My soul is sad, that I have roam'd through life And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends, Sull mosi a stranger, most with naked heart Masking his birth-name, wont to character At mine own home and birth-place : chiefly then, His wild-wood fancy and impetuous zeal) When I remember thee, my earliest Friend! "T is true that, passionate for ancient truths, Thee, who didst watch my boyhood and my youth ; And honoring with religious love the Great Didst trace my wanderings with a Father's eye; Of elder times, he hated to excess, And bwding evil, yet still hoping good,

With an unquiet and intolerant scorn. Rebuked each fault, and over all my woes The hollow puppets of a hollow age, Sorrow'd in silence! He who counts alone Ever idolatrous, and changing ever The beatings of the solitary heart,

Its worthless Idols! Learning, Power, and Time That Being knows, how I have loved thee ever, (Too much of all) thus wasting in vain war

Of fervid colloquy. Sickness, 't is true,

The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two isles
Whole years of weary days, besieged him close, Of purple shadow! Yes, they wander on
Even to the gates and inlets of his life!

In gladness all ; but thou, methinks, most glad,
But it is true, no less, that strenuous, firm,

My gentle-hearted Charles ! fur thou hast pined
And with a natural gladness, he maintain'd And hunger'd after Nature, many a year,
The citadel unconquer'd, and in joy

In the great city pent, winning thy way
Was strong to follow the delightful Muse.

With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pair For not a hidden Path, that to the Shades

And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Of the beloved Parnassian forest leads,

Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun ! Lurk'd undiscover'd by him ; not a rill

Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, There issues from the fount of Hippocrene, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! But he had traced it upward to its source,

Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves ! Through open glade, dark glen, and secret dell. And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my Friend, Knew the gay wild-flowers on its banks, and culla Siruck with deep joy, may stand, as I have stood, Its med'cinable herbs. Yea, oft alone,

Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round Piercing the long-neglected holy cave,

On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem
The haunt obscure of old Philosophy,

Less gross than bodily ; and of such hues
He bade with lifted torch its starry walls As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes
Sparkle as erst they sparkled to the flame Spirits perceive his presence.
Of odorous lamps tended by Saint and Sage.
O framed for calmer times and nobler hearts !

A delight
O studious Poet, eloquent for truth!

Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad Philosopher! contemning wealth and death, As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, Yet docile, childlike, full of life and love! This liule lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Here, rather than on monumental stone,

Much that has soothed me. Pale beneath the bla za This record of thy worth thy Friend inscribes, Hung the transparent foliage ; and I watch'd Thoughtful, with quiet tears upon his cheek. Some broad and sunny leaf, and loved to see

The shadow of the leaf and stem above
Dappling its sunshine! And that Walnut-tree

Was richly tinged, and a deep radiance lay
THIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY PRISON. Full on the ancient Ivy, which usurps

Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass, In the June of 1797, some long-expected Friends paid a visit Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue

to the Author's Cottage; and on the morning of their ar- Through the late twilight: and though now the Bar rival, he met with an accident, which disabled him from Wheels silent by, and not a Swallow twitters, walking during the whole time of their stay. One Evening. Yet still the solitary Humble-Bee when they had left him for a few hours, he composed the Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know following lines in the Garden Bower.

That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure :

No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,

No waste so vacant, but may well employ This Lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost

Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Beanties and feelings, such as would have been

Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes Most sweet to my remembrance, even when age

"T is well to be bereft of promised good, Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, mean- That we may lift the soul, ad contemplate

while, Friends, whom I never more may meet again,

With lively joy the joys we cannot share.

My gentle-hearted Charles ! when the last Rook On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,

Beat its straight path along the dusky air Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,

Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing To that still roaring dell, of which I told :

(Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep,

Had cross'd the mighty Orbis dilated glory, And only speckled by the mid-day sun ;

While thou stood'st gazing; or when all was still, Where its slim trunk the Ash from rock to rock

Flew creakingt o'er thy head, and had a charm Flings arching like a bridge ;-that branchless Ash, For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves No sound is dissonant which tells of Life. Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, Fann'd by the waterfall! and there my friends Behold the dark-green file of long lank weeds,* That all at once a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge

TO A FRIEND Of the blue clay-stone.

Now, my Friends emerge WHO HAD DECLARED HIS INTENTION OF WRITING Beneath the wide wide Heaven-and view again

NO MORE POETRY. The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, DEAR Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up That Genius plunged thee in that wizard fount

The Asplenium Scolopendrium, called in some countries Some months after I had written this line, it gave me pleathe Adder's Tongue, in others the Hart's Tongue ; but With sure to observe that Bartram had observed the same circumering gives the Adder's Tongue as the trivial name of the stanco of the Savanna Crane. * When theso Birds move Ophioglossum only.

their wings in flight, their strokes are slow, moderate and

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