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To listening gods he makes him known,

That man divine, by whom were sown
ODE

The seeds of Grecian fame:

Who first the race with freedom fir'd;
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FRANCIS EARL OF

From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspir'd ;
HUNTING DON.

From whom Platæan palms and Cyprian trophies

came. I.

O noblest, happiest age ! The wise and great of every clime,

When Aristides rul'd, and Cimon fought; Through all the spacious walks of Time,

When all the generous fruits of Homer's page Where'er the Muse her power display'd,

Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought. With joy have listen'd and obey'd.

O Pindar, oft shalt thou be hail'd of me: For, taught of Heaven, the sacred Nine

Not that Apollo fed thee from his sluine ; Persuasive numbers, forms divine,

Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee; To mortal sense impart:

Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine, They best the soul with glory fire;

Pan danc'd their measure with the sylvan throng: They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire ;

But that thy song And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed

Was proud to unfold heart.

What thy base rulers trembled to behold;

Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell Nor less prevailing is their charm

The deeds of Athens and the Persian shane : The vengeful bosom to disarm;

Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell To melt the proud with human woe,

But thou, O faithful to thy fame, And prompt unwilling tears to flow.

The Muse's law didst rightly know; Can wealth a power like this afford ?

That who would animate his lays,
Can Cromwell's arts, or Marlborough's sword,

And other minds to virtue raise,
An equal empire claim?

Must feel his own with all her spirit glow.
No, Hastings. Thou my words will own :
Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known ;
Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name.

III.
The Muse's aweful art,

Are there, approv'd of later times,
And the blest function of the poet's tongue, Whose verse adorn’d a tyrant's crimes?

Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour; to assert Who saw majestic Rome betray'd; From all that scorned Vice or slavish Fear hath And lent the imperial ruffian aid? sung

Alas! not one polluted bard,
Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings No, not the strains that Mincius heard,

Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bower; Or Tibur's hills reply'd,
Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings

Dare to the Muse's ear aspire ; By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour, Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre, Move thee to spurn the heavenly Muse's reign. With Freedom's ancient notes their shameful task A different strain,

they hide.
And other themes,
From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams, Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands,
(Thou well canst witness) meet the purged ear :

Amid the domes of modern hands :
Such, as when Greece to her immortal shell Amid the toys of idle state,
Rejoicing listen'd, godlike sounds to hear ; How simply, how severely great!
'To hear the sweet instructress tell

Then turn, and, while each western clime (While men and heroes throng'd around)

Presents her tuneful sons to Time, How life its noblest use may find,

So mark thou Milton's name; How well for freedom be resign'd;

And add, “ Thus differs from the throng And how, by Glory, Virtue shall be crown'd. The spirit which inform'd thy aweful song,

Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's II.

fame. Such was the Chian father's strain

Yet hence barbaric Zeal To many a kind domestic train,

His memory with unholy rage pursues; Whose pious hearth and genial bowl

While from these arduous cares of public weal Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's soul : She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his When, every hospitable rite

Muse.
With equal bounty to requite,

O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind
He struck his magic strings;

Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey;
And pour'd spontaneous numbers forth, Must join the noblest forms of every kind,
And seiz’d their ears with tales of ancient worth, The world's most perfect image to display,
An: fill’d their musing hearts with vast heroic things. Can e'er his country's majesty behold,

Unmoy'd or cold! Now oft, where happy spirits dwell,

O fool! to deem Where yet he tunes his charming shell,

That he, whose thought must visit every theme, Oft ncar him, with applauding hands, The Genius of his country stands.

Octavianus Cæsar.

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Whose heart must every strong emotion know To watch the state's uncertain frame,
Inspir'd by Nature, or by Fortune taught;

And baffle Faction's partial aim :
That he, if haply some presumptuous foe,

But chiefly, with determin'd zeal, With false ignoble science fraught,

To quell that servile band, who kneel Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful hand;

To Freedom's banish'd foes; That he their dear defence will shun,

That monster, which is daily found Or bide their glories from the Sun,

Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand ! Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. IV.

'T is highest Heaven's command,

That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue ; I care not that in Arno's plain,

That what ensnares the heart should maim the Or on the sportive banks of Seine,

hand, From public themes the Muse's quire

And Virtue's worthless foes be false to Glory too. Content with polish'd ease retire.

But look on Freedom. See, through every age, Where priests the studious head command,

What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! Where tyrants bow the warlike hand

What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage, To vile Ambition's aim,

Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! Say, what can public themes afford,

For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains Save venal honours to an hateful lord, [Fame ?

Of happy swains, Reserv'd for angry Heaven, and scorn'd of honest

Which now resound

[bound,

Where Scarsdale's cliff's the swelling pastures But here, where Freedom's equal throne

Bear witness. There, oft let the farmer bail To all her valiant sons is known;

The sacred orchard which imbowers his gate, Where all are conscious of her cares,

And show to strangers passing down the vale,
And each the power, that rules him, shares;

Where Ca'ndish, Booth, and Osborne sate;
Here let the Bard, whose dastard tongue
Leaves public arguments unsung,

When, bursting from their country's chain,

Even in the midst of deadly harms,
Bid public praise farewell :
Let him to fitter climes remove,

Of papal snares and lawless arms,

They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign,
Far from the hero's and the patriot's love,
And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell.

VI.
O Hastings, not to all
e Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend : This reign, these laws, this public care,
Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call,

Which Nassau gave us all to share,

Had ne'er adorn’d the English name, Tha: to one general weal their different powers

Could Fear have silenc'd Freedom's claim. they bend,

But Fear in vain attempts to bind
Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine
Inform the bosom of the Muse's son;

Those lofty efforts of the mind

Which social Good inspires; Though with new honours the patrician's line

Where men, for this, assault a throne, Advance from age to age ; yet thus alone

Each adds the common welfare to his own; They win the suffrage of impartial Fame. The poet's name

And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all acHe best shall prove,

quires. Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. But thee, O progeny of heroes old,

Say, was it thus, when late we view'd

Our fields in civil blood imbrued ?
Thee to severer toils thy fate requires :
The fate which form’d thee in a chosen mould,

When Fortune crown'd the barbarous host,

And half the astonish'd isle was lost?
The grateful country of thy sires,
Thee to sublimer paths demand;

Did one of all that vaunting train,
Sublimer than thy sires could trace,

Who dare affront a peaceful reign,

Durst one in arms appear ?
Or thy own Edward teach his race,

Durst one in counsels pledge his life?
Though Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand.

Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife?
V.

Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to

cheer?
From rich domains and subject farms,
They led the rustic youth to arms;

Yet, Hastings, these are they
And kings their stern achievements fear'd; Who challenge to themselves thy country's love :
While private Strife their banners rear'd. The true; the constant: who alone can weigh,
But loftier scenes to thee are shown,

What Glory should demand, or Liberty approve !
Where Empire's wide-establish'd throne

But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, No private master fills :

The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, Where, long foretold, the people reigns : Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. And judgeth what he sees; and, as he judgeth, wills. Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise

Oft nobly sways
Here be it thine to calm and guide

Ingenuous youth:
The swelling democratic tide;

But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth,

For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire,

Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone The kindred powers, Tethys, and reveriti
For mortals fixeth that sublime award.

And spotless Vesta; while supreine of stay He, from the faithful records of his throne, Remain'd the cloud-compeller. From the audio Bids the historian and the bard

Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, Dispose of honour and of scorn;

Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime, Discern the patriot from the slave ;

Send tribute to their parent : and from them
And write the good, the wise, the brave Are ye, 0 Naiads : Arethusa fair,
For lessons to the multitude unborn.

And tuneful Aganippe ; that sweet name,
Bandusia ; that soft family which dwelt
With Syrian Daphne; and the bonour'd tribes

Belov'd of Pæon. Listen to my strain,
HYMN TO THE NAIADS.

Daughters of 'Tethys : listen to your praise.

You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, which of the 1746.

Aurora to divine Astræus bore,

Owns; and your aid beseecheth. When the moments Argument.

Of Hyperion, from his noontide throne, The nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you

are addressed at day-break, in honour of their | They ask : Favonius and the mild South-west several functions, and of the relations which they From you relief implore. Your sallying stress bear to the natural and to the moral worid. Their Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart. origin is deduced from the first allegorical deities, Again they fly, disporting; from the mead or powers of Nature; according to the doctrine of | Half ripen'd and the tender blades of corn, the old mythological poets, concerning the gener. To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel ation of the gods and the rise of things. They Contagious streams, which oft the parched Earth are then successively considered, as giving motion Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to , to the air and exciting summer-breezes ; as nou- Along the river and the paved brook, rishing and beautifying the vegetable creation ; as Ascend the cheerful breezes': hail'd of bards contributing to the fullness of navigable rivers, Who, fast by learned Cam, the Æolian lyre and consequently to the maintenance of com- Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth merce ; and by that means, to the maritimne part who on the heights of Tibur, all inclin'd of military power. Next is represented their fa- O'er rushing Anio, with a pious hand vourable influence upon health, when assisted by The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes, rural exercise: which introduces their connection Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp with the art of physic, and the happy effects of Of ancient Time ; and haply, while he stars mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are ce- The ruins, with a silent tear revolves lebrated for the friendship which the Muses bear The fame and fortune of imperious Rome. them, and for the true inspiration which temper You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid ance only can receive : in opposition to the en- The rural powers confess ; and still prepare thusiasm of the more licentious poets.

For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands,

Oft as the Delian king with Sirius holds O'rr yonder eastern hill the twilight pale

The central heavens, the father of the grove Walks forth from darkness; and the god of day, Commands bis Dryads over your abodes With bright Astræa seated by his side,

To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied Ye Nymphs, ye blue-ey'd progeny of Thames, Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime. Who now the mazes of this rugged heath

Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, Trace with your fleeting steps ; who all night long Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air,

With living verdure clothes. Around your haupts Your lonely murmurs, tarry: and receive The laughing Chloris, with profusest hand, My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you I leave the gates of Sleep; nor shall my lyre Pomona seeks to dwell: and o'er the lawns, Too far into the splendid hours of morn

And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames Engage your audience: my observant hand Ye love to wander, Amalthea pours Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam

Well-pleas'd the wealth of that Ammonian horn, Approach you. To your subterranean haunts Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles Ye then may timely steal ; to pace with care Nysæan or Atlantic. Nor canst thou, The humid sands; to loosen from the soil

(Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock The bubbling sources; to direct the rills

The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, To meet in wider channels; or beneath

O Bromius, O Lenæan) nor canst thou Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven. With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me,

Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs? or end? Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyte,
Wide is your praise and copious - First of things, Accept the rites your bounty well may claim,
First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose, Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band.
Were Love and Chaos. Love the sire of Fate;
Elder than Chaos. Born of Fate was 'Time, As down the verdant slope your duteous rills
Who many sons and many comely births

Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives,
Devour'd, relentless father : till the child

Delighted; and your piety applauds ; Of Rhea drove him from the upper sky,

And bids his copious tide roll on secure, And quell'd his deadly might

. Then social reign'd | For faithful are his daughters; and with words

urns

Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid
His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings Hygeia well can witness; she who saves
Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts From poisonous cates and cups of pleasing bane,
Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn, The wretch devoted to the entangling snares
When Hermes, from Olympus bent o'er Earth Of Bacchus and of Comus. Him she leads
To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill

To Cynthia's lonely haunts. To spread the toils,
Stoops lightly-sailing; oft intent your springs To beat the coverts, with the jovial horn
He views : and waving o'er some new-born stream At dawn of day to summon the loud hounds,
His blest pacific wand, “ And yet,” he cries, She calls the lingering sluggard from his dreams :
“ Yet,” cries the son of Maia, “ though recluse And where his breast may drink the mountain breeze,
And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs,

And where the fervour of the sunny vale Flows wealth and kind society to men.

May beat upon his brow, through devious paths By you, my function and my honour'd name Beckons his rapid courser.

Nor when case, Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic vale,

Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms His eager bosom, does the queen of health By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct

Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board The English merchant: with the buxom fleece She guards, presiding; and the frugal powers Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe

With joy sedate leads in: and while the brown Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods Ennæan dame with Pan presents her stores; Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore,

While changing still, and comely in the change, Dispense the mineral treasure which of old

Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land

The garden's banquet; you to crown his feast, Vas yet unconscious of those generous arts To crown his feast, О Naiads, you the fair Which wise Phænicia from their native clime Hygeia calls: and from your shelving seats, ['ransplanted to a more indulgent Heaven." And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring,

Such are the words of Hermes : such the praise, To slake his veins : till soon a purer tide ) Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits Flows down those loaded channels; washeth off pour bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds And those who, sedulous in prudent works, Of crude disease ; and through the abodes of life Lelieve the wants of nature, Jove repays

Sends vigour, sends repose. Hail, Naiads : hail, Vith noble wealth, and his own seat on Earth, Who give, to labour, health; to stooping age, 't judgments to pronounce, and curb the might The joys which youth had squander’d. Oft your Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns Tot vainly to the hospitable arts

Will I invoke; and, frequent in your praise, Of Hermes yield their store. For, Oye Nymphs, Abash the frantic Thyrsus with my song. Iath he not won the unconquerable queen

For not estrang'd from your benignant arts Of arms to court your friendship ? You she owns Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine -The fair associates who extend her sway

My youth was sacred, and my votive cares Vide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things Belong ; the learned Pæon. Oft when all )f you she uttereth, oft as from the shore

His cordial treasures he hath search'd in vain ; »f Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm :)f Vecta, she her thundering navy leads

Rich with the genial influence of the Sun, *o Calpe's foaming channel, or the rough

(To rouse dark Fancy from her plaintive dreams, antabrian surge; her auspices divine

To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win mparting to the senate and the prince

Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast »f Albion, to dismay barbaric kings,

Which pines with silent passion,) he in vain "he Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings Hath prov'd; to your deep mansions he descends, Vas ever scorn'd by Pallas: and of old

Your gates of humid rock, your dim arcades, lejoic'd the virgin, from the brazen prow

He entereth ; where empurpled veins of ore of Athens o'er Ægina's gloomy surge,

Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine o drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god "he Persian's promis'd glory, when the realms From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime,

Wafts to his pale-ey'd suppliants ; wafts the seeds Vhen Libya's torrid champain and the rocks Metallic, and the elemental salts

soon cold Imaüs join'd their servile bands,

Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink : and So sweep the sons of Liberty from Earth.

Flies pain; Alies inauspicious care : and soon n vain : Minerva on the bounding prow

The social haunt or unfrequented shade jf Athens stood, and with the thunder's voice Hears Io, Io Pæan; as of old, Jenounc'd her terrours on their impious heads, When Python fell. And, O propitious Nymphs, and shook her burning ægis. Xerxes saw : Oft as for helpless mortals I implore 'rom Heracleum, on the mountain's height Your salutary springs, through every urn hron'd in his golden car, he knew the sign Oh shed your healing treasures. With the first Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake

And finest breath, which from the genial strife lis faultering heart, and turn’d his face with shame. Of mineral fermentation springs like light

Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power ; O'er the fresh morning's vapours, lustrate then Vho arm the hand of Liberty for war :

The fountain, and inform the rising wave. And give to the renown'd Britannic name

My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye lo awe contending monarchs : yet benign, That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand let mild of nature ; to the works of peace

Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes More prone, and lenient of the many ills

Not unregarded of celestial powers,

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And lifted up the veil which Heaven from Earth

« Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law
From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure:
Let not my words be impious chains to draw
The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe,

To faith without assent, allegiance unrepail."

I frame their language ; and the Muses deign Of young Lyæus, and the dread exploits,
To guide the pious tenour of my lay.

May sing in aptest numbers : he the fate
The Muses (sacred by their gifts divine)

Of sober Pentheus, he the Paphian rites,

X In eariy days did to my wondering sense

And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'de

W Their secrets oft reveal : oft my rais'd ear

And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes,

TI In slumber felt their music : oft at noon,

May celebrate, applauded. But with you,

TO Or hour of sunset, by some lonely stream,

O Naiads, far from that unballow'd rout, In field or shady grove, they taught me words Must dwell the man whoe'er to praised theme

TE Of power, from death and envy to preserve Invokes the immortal Muse. The immorta! Va 6 The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful To your calm habitations, to the cave

A mind,

Corycian, or the Delphic mount, will guide And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye,

His footsteps ; and with your unsullied streams My vows I send, my homage, to the seats

His lips will bathe: whether the eternal lore
Of rocky Cirrha, where with you they dwell: Of Themis, or the majesty of Jove,
Where you their chaste companions they admit To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre
Through all the hallow'd scene: where oft intent, The unenvied guerdon of the patriot's toils

, And leaning o'er Castalia's mossy verge,

In those unfading islands of the bless'd, They mark the cadence of your confluent urns, Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honour'd Nyopes How tuneful, yielding gratefullest repose Thrice hail. For you the Cyrenaic shell

C To their consorted measure: till again,

Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs With emulation all the sounding choir,

Be present ye with favourable feet,
And bright Apollo, leader of the song,

And all profaner audience far remove.
Their voices through the liquid air exalt,
And sweep their lofty strings: those powerful strings
That charm the mind of gods : that fill the courts
Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet
Of evils, with immortal rest from cares :
Assuage the terrours of the throne of Jove;

ODE

To And quench the formidable thunderbolt Of unrelenting fire. With slacken’d wings,

TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHT
While now the solemn concert breathes around,
Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord
Sleeps the stern eagle; by the number'd notes,

I.
Possess'd ; and satiate with the melting tone:
Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, For toils which patriots have endur'd,
His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels

For treason quell’d and laws secur'd,
That bear him vengeful o'er the embattled plain, In every nation Time displays
Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease,

The palm of honourable praise. Most welcome ease. The sire of gods and men,

Envy may rail; and Faction fierce In that great moment of divine delight,

May strive; but what, alas! can those Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er

(Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes) He loves not, o'er the peopled earth, and o'er

To gratitude and love oppose,
The interminated ocean, he beholds

To faithful story and persuasive verse!
Curs'd with abhorrence by his doom severe,
And troubled at the sound.

Ye Naiads, ye

O nurse of Freedom, Albion, say, With ravish'd ears the melody attend

Thou tamer of despotic sway, Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves

What man, among thy sons around, Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive Thus heir to glory hast thou found ? To drown the heavenly strains ; of highest Jove What page in all thy annals bright, Irreverent, and by mad presumption fir'd

Hast thou with purer joy survey'd Their own discordant raptures to advance

Than that where Truth, by Hoadly's aid

, With hostile emulation. Down they rush

Shines through Imposture's solemn shade,
From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames Through kingly and through sacerdotal night?
Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns,
With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd

To him the Teacher bless'd,
Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild Who sent Religion, from the palmy field
Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air

By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west,
The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch
Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's

conceal'd,
Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix'd To Hoadly thus his mandate he address'd:
With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods
From every unpolluted ear avert
Their orgies! If within the seats of men,

Let not my peaceful name be made a lure
Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds Fell Persecution's mortal snares to aid :
The guardian key, if haply there be found
Who loves to mingle with the revel-band
And hearken to their accents; who aspires
From such instructors to inform his breast
With verse ; let him, fit votarist, implore
Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts

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