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O, for a glance of that gay Muse's eye,

That lightend on Bandello's laughing tale,
And iwinkled with a lustre shrewd and sly,

When Gian Battista bade her vision Nail !! Yet fear not, ladies, the naive detail

Given by the natives of that land canorous; Italian license loves to leap the pale,

We Britons leave the fear of shame before us, And, if not wise in mirth, at least must be decorous.

Physicians soon arrived, sage, ware, and tried,

As e'er scrawl'd jargon in a darken'd room ; With heedful glance the Sultaun's tongue they eyed, Peep'd in his bath, and God knows wliere beside,

And then in solemn accents spoke their doom, « His majesty is very far from well.» Then each lo work with his specific fell: The Jakim Ibrahim instanter brought His unguent Mahazzim al Zerdukkaut,' While Roompot, a practitioner more wily, Relied on his Munaskif al fillfily. More and yet more in deep array appear, And some the front assail and some the rear: Their remedies to reinforce and vary, Came surgeon eke, and eke apothecary; Till the tired monarch, though of words grown chary, Yet dropi, to recompense their fruitless labour, Some hint about a bowstriug or a sabre. There lack d, I promise you, no longer speeches, To rid the palace of those learned leeches.

In the far eastern clime, no great while since,
Lived Sultaun Solimaun, a mighty prince,
Whose eyes, as oft as they perform'd their round,
Eeheld all others fix'd upon the ground;
Whose ears received the same unvaried phrase,
Sultaun! thy vassal hears, and he obeys!»
All have their tastes—this may the fancy strike
Of such grave folks as pomp and grandeur like;
For me, I love the honest heart and warm
Of monarch who can amble round his farm,
Or, when the toil of state no more annoys,
In chimney-corner seek domestic joys-
I love a prince will bid the bottle pass,
Erchanging with his subjects glance and glass;
In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay,
Keep up the jest and mingle in the lay-
Such monarchs best our free-born humours 'suit,
But despots must be stately, stern, and mute.

Then was the council call'd—by their advice,
(They deem'd the matter ticklish all, and nice,

And sought to shift it off from their own shoulders),
Tatars and couriers in all speed were sent,
To call a sort of castern parliament

Of feudatory chieftains and freeholdersSuch have the Persians at this very day, My gallant Malcolm calls them couroultai;? I'm not prepared to show in this slight song Thal to Strendib the same forms belong,E'en let the learn'd go search, and tell me if I'm wrong.

This Solimaun, Serendib had in sway-
And where's Serendib? may some critic say-
Good lack, mine honest friend, consult the chart,
Scare pot my Pegasus before I start!
JF Rendell has it pot, you 'll find, mayhap,
Tlie isle laid down in Captain Sindbad's map,–
Famed mariner! whose merciless narrations
Drove every friend and kidsman out of patience,
Ti!!, fain to find a guest who thought them shorter,
lle deigod to tell them over to a porter-
The last edition see by Long. and Co.,
Rees, Burst, and Orme, our fathers in the Row.

The Omrahs,3 each with hand on scymitar,
Gave, like Sempronius, still clicir voice for war-
« The sabre of the Sultaun in its sheath
Too long has slepi, nor own'd the work of death ;
Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle,
Bang the loud gong, and raise the shout of battle!
This dreary cloud that dims our sovereign's day
Shall from his kindled bosom tlit away,
When the bold Lootie whicels his courser round,
And the arm d elephant shall shake the ground.
Each noble panis to own the glorious summons-
And for the charges-Lo! your faithful Commons !»
The Riots who attended in their places

(Serendib-language calls a farmer Riot) Look'd ruefully in one another's faces,

From this oration auguring much disquiet, Double assessment, forage, and free quarters : And fearing these as China-men the Tartars, Or as the wiiskerd verinin fear the mousers, Each fumbled in the pocket of his trowsers.

Serendib found, deem not my tale a fiction-
This Sultaun, whether lacking contradiction-
(A sort of stimulant which hath its uses,
To raise the spirits and reform the juices,
Sovereign specific for all sort of cures
Ja my wife's practice, and perhaps in yours),
The Sultaun Jacking this same wholesome bitter,
Or cordial smooth, for prince's palate filter-
Or if some Mollah had hay-rid his dreams
With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild themes
Belonging to the Mollah's subtle craft,
I wot not-but the Sultaun never laughd,
Scarce ate or drank, and took a melancholy
That scorn'd all remedy, profave or boly;
In his long list of melancholics, mad,
Or mazed, or dumb, bath Burton none so bad,

And next came forth the reverend Convocation,

Bald heads, white beards, and many a turban green, Imaum and Mollah there of every station,

Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were seen.
Their votes were various-some advised a Mosque

With filling revenues should be erected,
With seemly gardens aud with gay kiosque,

To recreate a band of priests selecied;

'For these bard words see d'Ilerbelot, or the learned editor of tbe Recipes of Avicenna.

2 See Sir John Valcolm's admirable Iristory of Persia. 3 Xobility.

The bint of the following tale is taken from La Camiscia Magia, a novel of Gian Battista Casti.

Others opined that through the realms a dole

Try we the Giaours, these men of coat and cap, I Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit Incline to think some of them must be happy; The Sultaun's weal in body and in soul ;

At least they have as fair a cause as any can, But their long-headed chief, the Sheik Ul-Sofit, They drink good wine, and keep no Ramazan. More closely touch'd the point:—« Thy studious mood,» | Theo northward, ho!» The vessel cuts the sea, Quoth be, « () prince! hath thicken'd all thy blood, And fair Italia lies upon her Ice.And dull'd thy brain with labour beyond measure;

But fair Italia, she who once unfurld Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure, Her eagle banners o'er a conquer'd world, And toy with beauty or tell o'er thy treasure ;

Long from her throne of domination tumbled, From all the cares of state, my liege, enlarge thee, Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled; And leave the burthen to thy faithful clergy.»

The Pope himself lookid pensive, pale, and lean,

And was not half the man he once had been. These counsels sige availed not a whit,

« While these the pricst and those the poble fleeces, And so the patient (as is not uncommon


old boot,.' they said, « is torn to pieces. Where grave physicians lose their time and wit) Its tops: the vengeful claws of Austria feel, Resolved to take advice of an old woman;

And the Great Devil is rending toe and heel.3
His mother she, a dame who once was beauteous, If happiness you seek, to tell you truly,
And still was call'd so by each subject duteous. We think she dwells with one Giovanni Bulli;
Now, whether Fatima was witchuin earnest,

A tramontane, a beretic, - the buck,
Or only made believe, I cannot say-

Poffaredio! still has all the luck; But she profess'd to cure disease the sternest,

By land or ocean never strikes lis ilagBy dint of magic amulet or lay;

And then-a perfect walking money-bay." And, when all other skill in vain was shown,

Off set our prince to seek Joha Bull's abode, She deem'd it fitting time to use her own.

But first took Francc-it lay upon the road.

« Sympathia magica hath wonders done,»

Monsieur Baboon, after much late commotion, (Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son),

Was agitated like a settling ocean, « It works upon the fibres and the pores,

Quite out of sorts, and could not tell what ail'd him, And thus, insensibly, our health restores,

Only the glory of his house had fail'd him; And it must belp us liere. - Thou must endure Besides, some tumours on his noddle bidiog, The ill, my son, or travel for the cure,

Gave indication of a recent hiding. Scarch land and sea, and get, where'er you can, Our prince, though Sultaups of such things are heed The inmost vesture of a happy man,

less, I mean his shirt, my son, which, taken warm

Thought it a thing indelicate and needless And fresh from off his back, shall chase your harm, To ask, if at that moment he was liappy, Bid every current of your veins rejoice,

And Monsieur, seeing that he was comme il faut, a And

your dull heart Icap light as shepherd-boy's.» Loud voice muster'd up, for « l'ive le Roi!» Such was the counsel from his mother came.

Then whisper'd, « Ave you any news of Sappy! I know not if she had some under-fame,

The Sultaun apswer'd him with a cross question. As doctors have, who bid their patients roam

« Pray, can you tell me anglot of one Jolin Bull, An I live abroad, when sure to die at home;

That dwells somewhere beyond your locrring-pool's Or if she thought, that, somehow or another,


seemd of difficult digestion,
Queen Regent sounded better than Queen Mother; The party shrugg'd, and grion'd, and took his sauff,
But, says the Chronicle (who will go look it ?) And found his whole good breeding scarce enough.
That such was her advice-the Sultaun took it.

Twitching his visage into as many puckers All are on board-the Sultaun and his train,

As damsels wont to put into their tuckers In gilded galley prompt to plough the main:

(Ere liberal Fashion damn'd both lace and lawn, The old Raisi was the first who question'd, « Whi- And bade the veil of modesty be drawn), ther?»

| Replied the Frenchman, after a brief pause, They paused —« Arabia,» thought the pensive prince, « Jean Pool! -I vas not know him-yes, I vas« Was calla The Happy many ages since

I vas remember dat von year or two, For Mokha, Rais.»-- And they came safely thither. I saw him at von place cail'd VaterlooBut not in Araby with all her balm,

Ma foi! il s'est très-joliment battu, Nor where Judra weeps beneath her palm,

Dat is for Englishman,-m'entendez-vous ? Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian waste,

But den he had wit him von dama son-gun, Could there the step of Happiness be traced.

Rogue I no like-dey call him Vellington One Copt alone profess'd to have seen her smile, Monsieur's politeness could not hide his fret, When Bruce his goblet fill'd at infaot Nile;

So Solimaun took leave and cross'd the streigbe. She bless'd the dauntless traveller as he quaffd, But vanish'd from him with the ended draught.

The well-known resemblance of Italy in the map.

? Florence, Venice, etc. Enough of turbans,» said the weary king, « These dolimans of ours are not the thing;

The Calabrias, infested by bands of assassins. One of the

leaders was called Fra Diavolo, i.e Brother Devil Master of the vessel

* Or drubbing, so called in the Slang dictionary.

John Ball was in his very worst of moods,
having of sterile farms and unsold goods;
Ilis sugar-loaves and bales about he threw,
And on his counter beat the devil's tattoo.
His wars were ended, and the victory won,
But then I was reckoning-day with honest John,
And authors vouch 't was still this worthy's way,

Never to grumble till he came to pay;
And then he always thinks, his temper's such,
The work too little, and the pay too much.»'
Yet, grumbler as he is, so kind and hearty,

That when his mortal foe was on the floor,

And past the power to harm his quict more, Poor Joho had well nigh wept for Bonaparte! Such was the wight whom Solimaun salam’d, * And who are you,» John answer'd, « and be d-d ?»

She bade him «sit into the fire,» and took
Her dram, her cake, her kebbock from the nook ;
Ask d bim «about the news from castern parts;
And of her absent bairas, puir llighland hearts!
If peace brought down the price of tea and pepper,
And if the nitmugs were grown ony cheaper ?
Were there nae speerings of our Mungo Park-
Ye 'll be the gentleman that wants the sark?
If ye wad buy a web o auld wife's spinning,
I'll warrant ye it's a weel-wearing linen.»

Then up got Peg, and round the house 'gan scuttle,

In search of goods her customer to nail, Until the Sultaun strain'd his princely throttle,

And hollow'd, — « Ma'am, that is not what I ail. Pray, are you happy, ma'am, in this spug glen ?» « Happy!» said Peg; « What for d' ye want to keo? Besides, just think upon this by-gane year,

Grain wadna pay the yoking of the pleugh.» « What say you to the present?»-« Meal 's sae dear,

To mak their brose my bairns have scarce aneugh.» « The devil take the shirt,» said Solimaun, «I think my quest will end as it began. Farewell, ma'am; nay, no ceremony, I beg-» « Ye 'll no be for the linen then ?» said Peg.

• A stranger, come to see the happiest man,So, seignior, all avouch,-in Frangistan.»_*

Happy! my tenants breaking on my hand ? Unstock d my pastures, and untillid my land ; Sugar and rum a drug, and mice and moths The sole consumers of my good broad-clothsHappy! why, cursed war and racking tax Have left us scarcely raiment to our backs. » « In that case, Seignior, I may take my leave; I came to ask a favour-but I grieve-—» e Favour?» said John, and eyed the Sultaun hard, « It's my belief you came to break the yard ! — But, stay, you look like some poor foreign sinner,Take that, to buy yourself a shirt and dinner.»With that he chuck'd a guinca at his head; But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said, 4 Permit me, sir, your bounty to decline; A shirt indeed I seek, but none of thine. Seignior, I kiss your hands, so fare you well.» * Kiss and be d-d,» quoth Jolin, « and go to hell!»

Now, for the land of verdant Erin,
The Sultaun's royal bark is steering,
The emerald Isle where honest Paddy dwells,
The cousin of John Bull, as story tells.
For a long space had John, with words of thunder,
Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Paddy under,
Till the poor lad, like boy that's floge'd unduly, .
Had gotten somewhat restive and unruly.
Hard was his lot and lodging, you 'll allow,
A wigwam that would hardly serve a sow;
His landlord, and of middlemen two brace,
Had screw'd his rent up to the starving place;
His garment was a top-coal, and an old one,
His meal was a potatoe, and a cold one ;
But still for fun or frolic, and all that,
Jn the round world was not the match of Pat.

Next door to John there dwelt his sister Peg,
Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg,
When the blithe bagpipe blew—but soberer now,
She doucely span her flax and milk'd her cow.
And whereas erst she was a peedy slattern,
Nor now of wealth or cleanliness a pattern,
Yet once a month her house was partly swept,
And once a-week a plenteous board she kept.
And whereas eke the vixen used her claws,

And teeth, of yore, on slender provocation,
She now was grown amenable to laws,

A quiet soul as any in the nation ; The sole remembrance of her warlike joys Was in old songs she sang to please hier boys. John Bull, whom, in their years of early strife, She wont to lead a cat-and-dogeish life, Now found the woman, as he said, a neighbour, Who look'd to the main chance, declined no labour, Loved a long grace, aud spoke a porthern jargon, And was d--d close in making of a bargain.

The Sultaun saw him on a holiday,
Which is with Paddy still a jolly day:
When mass is ended, and his load of sins
Confess'd, and Mother Church hath from her bions
Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit,
Then is Pat's time for fancy, whim, and spirit!
To jest, to sing, to caper fair and free,
And dance as light as leaf upon the tree.
« By Mahomet,» said Sultaun Solimaun,
« That ragged fellow is our very man !
Rush in and seize him -- do not do him hurt,
But, will he nill he, let me have his shirt

The Sultaun enter'd, and he made his leg,
And with decorum curtsied sister Peg;
She loved a book, and kuewa thing or two,
And guess'd at once with whom she had to do.)

Shilela their plan was well nigh after baulking
(Much less provocation will set it a-walking),
But the odds that foild Hercules foild Paddy Whack;
They seized, and they toor'd, and they stripp'd him-

Up-bubboo! Paddy had not--a shirt to his back!!!
And the king, disappointed, with sorrow and shame,
Went back to Serendib as sad as he caine.

See the True-Bora Eo;lislman, by Daniel de Poe. • Europe.

As wigwam wild, that shrouds the native frore

On the bleak coast of frost-barr'd Labrador.'
Approach, and through the unlatticed window

Welcome, grave stranger, to our green retreats, Nay, shrink not back, the inmate is asleep;
Where health with exercise and freedom meets ! Sunk mid yon sordid blankets, till the sun
Thrice welcome, sage, whose philoscphic plan Stoop to the west, the plunderer's toils are done.
By Nature's limits metes the rights of man;

Loaded and primed, and prompi from desperate band, Generous as he, who now for freedom bawls,

Rifle and fowling-piece beside him stand, Now gives full value for true Indian shawls;

While round the hut are in disorder laid O'er court, o'er custom-house, his shoe who flings, The tools and booty of his lawless trade; Now bilks excisemen, and now bullies kings.

For force or fraud, resistance or escape, Like his, I ween, thy comprehensive mind

The crow, the saw, the bludgeon, and the crape. Holds laws as mouse-traps baited for mankind; His pilfer d powder in yoo nook he hoards, Thine eye, applausive, each sly vermin sees,

And the filchd lead the church's roof affordsThat baulks the snare, yet battens on the cheese ; (Hence shall the rector's congregation fret, Thine ear has heard, with scorn instead of awe, That while his sermon's dry, his walls are wet.) Our buckskin'd justices expound the law,

The fish-spear barb'd, the sweeping net are there, Wire-draw the acts that fix for wires the pain,

Doe-hides, and pheasant plumes, and skids of hare, And for the netted partridge noose the swain ;

Cordage for coils, and wiring for the share. And thy vindictivcarm would faio have broke

Barter'd for game from chase or warren won, The last light fetter of the feudal yoke,

Yon cask holds moonlight, run whco moon was done : To give the denizens of wood and wild,

Aod late-snatch'd spoils lie slowd in hutch apart, Nature's free race, to each her frec-born child.

To wait the associate higgler's evening cart.
Hence hast thou mark'd, with grief, fair London's race
Mock'd with the boon of ove poor Easter chace,

Look on his pallet foul, and mark his rest: And long'd to send them forth as free as when What scenes perturb'd are acting in his breast! Pour'd o'er Chantilly the Parisian train,

His sable brow is wet and wrung with pain, When musket, pistol, blunderbuss combined,

And his dilated nostril toils in vain, And scarce the field-pieces were left behind!

For short and scant the breath each effort draws, A squadron's charge each leveret's heart dismay'd,

And 'twixt each effort Nature claims a pause. On every covey fired a bold brigade:

Beyond the loose and sable neckcloth stretchd, La Douce Humanité approved the sport,

His sinewy throat seems by convulsion twitcb'd, For great the alarm indeed, yet small the hurt; While the tongue falters, as to utterance loth, Shouts patriotic solemnized the day,

Sounds of dire import-watch-word, threat, and cat! And Seine re-echo'd Vive la Liberté!

Though, stupified by toil and druged with gin, But mad Citoyen, meek Monsieur again,

The body sleep, the restless guest within
With some few added links resumes his chain;

Now plies on wood and wold his lawless trade,
Then since such scenes to France no more are known, Now in the fangs of justice wakes dismay'd. -
Come, view with me a hero of thine own!
One, whose free actions vindicate the cause

« Was that wild start of terror and despair, Of sylvan liberty o'er feudal laws.

Those bursting eye-balls, and that wilder'd air,

Signs of compunction for a murder d hare? Seek we yon glades, where the proud oak o'ertops

Do the locks bristle and the eye-brows arch,
Wide-waving seas of birch and hazel copse,

For grouse or partridge massacred in March?
Leaving between deserted isles of land,
Where stunted heath is patch'd with ruddy sand;

No, scoffer, no! Attend, and mark with awe, And lonely on the waste the yew is seen,

There is no wicket in the gate of law! Or straggling hollies spread a brighter green.

He, that would c'er so lightly set ajar Here, liule worn, and winding dark and steep,

That awful portal must undo each bar; Our scarce-mark'd path desceuds yon dingle deep :

Tempting occasion, habil, passion. pride, Follow-but heedful, cautious of a trip.

Will join to storm the breach, and force the barrier wide. In earthly mire philosophy may slip, Step slow and wary o'er that swampy stream,

That ruffian, whom true men avoid and dread. Till, guided by the charcoal's smothering steam, Whom bruisers, poachers, smugglers, call Black Vet We reach the frail yet barricaded door

Was Edward Mansell once;- the lightest heart, Of hovel form'd for poorest of the poor;

That ever play'd on holiday his part!
No hearth the fire, no vent the smoke receives, The leader he in every Christmas game,
The walls are wattles, and the covering leaves ; The harvest feast grew blither when he came,
For, if such hut, our forest statutes say,
Rise in the progress of one night and day

"Sach is the law in the New Forest, Hampshire, tesi' na poszt (Though placed where still the Conqueror's hests o'er- to increase the varions settlements of thieves, smegler *

stealers, who infest it. In the forest courts the pres disent awe,

wears as a badge of office an antique stirrap, said to kort me* And his son's stirrup shines the badge of law),

that of William Rufus. See Nr Williain Ros's spirited post The builder claims the unenviable boon,

titled The Rai King.. To tenant dwelling, framed as slight and soon

• A caut name for suggled spirits.

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And liveliest on the chords the bow did glance,
When Edward named the tune and led the dance.
Kind was his heart, his passions quick and strong,
Hearty his laugh, and jovial was his

song; And if he loved a gun, his father swore, « T was but a trick of youth would soon be o'er; Himself had done the sime some thirty years before.»

But he, whose humours spurn Jaw's awful yoke, Must herd with those by whom law's bonds are broke. The common drcad of justice soon allies The clown, who robs the warren or excise, With sterper felons train d to act more dread, E'en with the wretch by whom his fellow bled. Then, as in plagues the foul contagions pass, Leavening and festering the corrupted mass, – Guilt leagues with guilt, wliile mutual motives draw, Their hope impunity, their fear the law; Their foes, their friends, their rendezvous the same, Till the revenue baulkd, or pilfer'd game, Flesh the young culprit, and example leads To darker villany and direr deeds. •

'T is at such a tide and hour,
Wizard, witch, and fiend have power,
And ghasily forms through mist and shower,

Gleam on the gifted ken;
And then the affrighted prophet's ear
Drinks whispers strange of fate and fear,
resaging death and ruin near

Among the sons of men :-
Apart from Albyn's war-array,
'T was then gray Allan sleepless lay;
Gray Allan, who, for many a day,

Had follow'd stout and stern,
Where through battle's rout and reel,
Storm of shot and hedge of steel,
Led the grandson of Lochiel,

Valiant Fassiefern.
Through steel and shot he leads no more,
Low-laid 'mid friends and foemen's

But long his native lake's wild shore,
And Sunart rough, and high Ardpower,

And Morven long shall tell,
And proud Ben Nevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,
Brave Cameron heard the wild hurra

Of conquest as he fell.

Wild howld the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renewid her dismal song; Around the spot where erst lie felt the wound, Redd William's spectre walk'd his midnight round. When o'er the swamp he cast bois blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook The bittero's sullen shout the sedges shook ; The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam, Now gave and xow withheld her doubtful beam; The old oak stoop'd his arms, then flung them high, Lellowing and groaning to the troubled skyTwas then, that, couch'd amid the brush wood sere In Malwood-walk, young Mansell watch'd the deer: The fastest buck received his deadly shotThe watchful keeper heard, and sought the spot. Stout were their hearts, and stubboro was their strife, O'erpower'd at length the outlaw drew bis knife! Next morn a corpse was found upon the fell The rest his waking agony may tell !

'Lone on the outskirts of the host,
The weary sentinel held post,
And heard, through darkness far aloof,
The frequent clang of courser's hoof,
Where held the cloak'd patrole their course,
And spurr'd gainst storm the swerving horse;
But there are sounds in Allan's ear,
Patrole nor sentinel may hear,
And si:hts before his eye achast
Invisible to them have pass'd,

When down the destined plain
"Twixt Britain and the bands of France,
Wild as marsh-borne meteors glance,
Strange phantoms wheeld a revel-dance,

And doom'd the future slain,-
Such forms were seen, such sounds were heard,
When Scotland's James luis march prepared

For Flodden's fatal plain;
Such, when he drew his ruthless sword,
As Chusers of the Slain, adored

The yet unchristend Dane.
An indistinct and phantom band,
They wheeld their ring-dance hand in hand,

With gesture wild and dread;
The seer, who watch'd them ride the storm,
Saw through their faint and shadowy form

The lightning's flaslı more red;
And sull their ghastly roundelay
Was of the coming battle-fray,

And of the destined dead.


Night and morning were at meeting

Over Waterloo ; Cocks bad sung their earliest greeting,

Faint and low they crew, For no paly beam yet shone On the heights of Mount Saint John; Tempest-clouds prolong'd the sway Of limeless darkness over day; Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and shower, Mark'u it a predestined hour. Broad and frequent through the night Flashi d the sheets of levin-light; Muskets, glancing lightnings back, Show'd the dreary bivouack

Where the soldier lay, Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain, Wishing dawn of morn again,

Though death should come with day.


Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

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