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As doctors give physic by way of prevention,
Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took
care;

For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention
May haply be never fulfill'd by his heir.

Then take Mat's word for it, the sculptor is paid; That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye;

Yet credit but lightly what more may be said,
For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.

Yet, counting as far as to fifty his years,

His virtues and vices were as other men's are; High hopes he conceiv'd, and he smother'd great fears,

In a life party-colour'd, half pleasure, half care. Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave. He strove to make interest and freedom agree; In public employments industrious and grave, And alone with his friends, lord, how merry was he!

Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot,

Both fortunes he try'd,but to neither would trust; And whirl'd in the round, as the wheel turn'd about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.

This verse little polish'd, though mighty sincere,
Sets neither his titles nor merit to view;
says, that his relics collected lie here,

It

And no mortal yet knows too if this may be truc.
Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway,
So Mat may be kill'd, and his bones never found;
False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea,
So Mat may yet chance to be hang'd, or be
drown'd.

If his bones lie in earth, roll in sea, fly in air,
To Fate we must yield, and the thing is the same.
And if passing thou giv'st him a smile or a tear,
He cares not-yet pr'ythee be kind to his fame.

GUALTERUS DANISTONUS AD AMICOS.
DUM studeo fungi fallentis munere vitæ,

Adfectoque viam sedibus Elysiis,
Arctoa florens sophiâ, Samisque superbus
Discipulis, animas morte carere cano.
Has ego corporibus profugas ad sidera mitto;
Sideraque ingressis otia blanda dico;
Qualia conveniunt Divis, queis fata volebant
Vitäe faciles molliter ire vias:

Vinaque Calicolis media inter gaudia libo;
Et me quid majus suspicor esse viro.
Sed fuerint nulli forsan, quos spondco, cœli;
Nullaque sint Ditis numina, nulla Jovis:
Fabula sit terris agitur quæ vita relictis;

Quique superstes, Homo; qui nihil, esto Deus.
Attamen esse hilares, & inanes mittere curas
Proderit, ac vitæ commoditate frui,
Et festos agitasse dies, ævique fugacis
Tempora perpetuis detinuisse jocis.

His me parentem præceptis occupet Orcus,

Et Mors; seu Divum, seu nihil, esse velit: Nam sophia ars illa est, quæ fallere suaviter horas Admonet, atque Orci non timuisse minas.

IMITATED.

STUDIOUS the busy moments to deceive, That fleet between the cradle and the grave, I credit what the Grecian dictates say, And Samian sounds o'er Scotia's hills convey. When mortal man resigns his transient breath, The body only I give o'er to death; The parts dissolv'd and broken frame I mourn: What came from earth I see to earth return. The immaterial part, th' ethereal soul, Nor can change vanquish, nor can death control Glad I release it from its partner's cares, And bid good angels waft it to the stars. Then in the flowing bowl I drown those sighs, Which, spite of wisdom, from our weakness rise. The draught to the dead's memory I commend, And offer to thee now, immortal friend. But if, oppos'd to what my thoughts approve, Nor Pluto's rage there be, nor power of Jove; On its dark side if thou the prospect take; Grant all forgot beyond black Lethe's lake; In total death suppose the mortal lie, No new hereafter, nor a future sky: Yet bear thy lot content; yet cease to grieve: Why, ere death comes, dost thou forbear to live? The little time thou hast, 'twixt instant now And Fate's approach, is all the Gods allow: And of this little hast thou aught to spare To sad reflection, and corroding care? The moments past, if thou art wise, retrieve With pleasant memory of the bliss they gave. The present hours in present mirth employ, And bribe the future with the hopes of joy: The future (few or more, howe'er they be) Were destin'd erst; nor can by Fate's decree Be now cut off betwixt the grave and thee.

THE FIRST HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS. TO JUPITER.

WHILE we to Jove select the holy victim, Whom apter shall we sing, than Jove himself,

The god for ever great, for ever' king,
Who slew the earth-born race, and measures right
To Heaven's great habitants? Dictaan hear'st thou
More joyful, or Lycæan, long dispute
And various thought has trac'd. On Ida's mount,
Or Dicte, studious of his country's praise,
The Cretan boasts thy natal place: but oft
He meets reproof deserv'd: for he, presumptuous,
Has built a tomb for thee, who never know'st
To die, but liv'st the same to day and ever.
Arcadian therefore be thy birth: Great Rhea,
Pregnant to high Parrhasia's cliffs retir'd,
And wild Lycarus, black with shading pines:
Holy retreat! sithence no female hither,
Conscious of social love and Nature's rites,
Must dare approach, from the inferior reptile
To woman, form divine. There the blest parent
Ungirt her spacious bosom, and discharg'd

The pondrous birth; she sought a neighbouring spring

To wash the recent babe; in vain: Arcadia,
(However streamy) now adust and dry,
Deny'd the goddess water; where deep Melas
And rocky Cratis flow, the chariot sniok'd,
Obscure with rising dust: the thirsty traveller
In vain requir'd the current, then imprison'd
In subterraneous caverns: forests grew
Upon the barren hollows high o'ershading
The haunts of savage beasts, where now Iaon
And Erimanth incline their friendly urns.
"Thou too, O Earth," great Rhea said, " bring
forth;

And short shall be thy pangs." She said; and high
She rear'd her arm, and with her sceptre struck
The yawning cliti': from its disparted height
Adown the mount the gashing torrent ran,
And cheer'd the vallies: there the heavenly mother
Bath'd, mighty king, thy tender limbs: she wrapt
them

In purple bands: she gave the precious pledge
To prudent Neda, charging her to guard thee,
Careful and secret; Neda, of the nymphs
That tended the great birth, next Philyre
And Styx, the eldest. Smiling, she receiv'd thee,
And, conscious of the grace, absolv'd her trust:
Not unrewarded; since the river bore
The favourite virgin's name; fair Neda rolls
By Leprion's ancient walls, a fruitful stream.
Fast by her flowery bank the sons of Arcas,
Favourites of Heaven, with happy care protect
Their fleecy charge; and joyous drink her wave.
Thee, god, to Cnossus Neda brought; the
nymphs

And Corybantes thee, their sacred charge,
Receiv'd: Adraste rock'd thy golden cradle:
The goat, now bright amidst her fellow-stars,
Kind Amalthea, reach'd her teat distent
With milk, thy early food: the sedulous bee
Distill'd her honey on thy purple lips.

Around, the fierce Curetes (order solemn
To thy fore knowing mother!) trod tumultuous
Their mystic dance, and clang'd their sounding
Industrious with the warlike din to quell [arms,
Thy infant cries, and mock the ear of Saturn:
Swift growth and wondrous grace, O heavenly
Waited thy blooming years: inventive wit, [Jove,
And perfect judgment, crown'd thy youthful act.
That Saturn's sons receiv'd the three-fold empire
Of Heaven, of ocean, and deep Hell beneath,
As the dark urn and chance of lot determin'd,

Old poets mention, fabling. Things of moment,
Well nigh equivalent and neighbouring value,
By lot are parted: but high Heaven, thy share,
In equal balance laid 'gainst sch or Hell,
Flings up the adverse scale, and shuns proportion.
Wherefore not chance, but power above thy bre
thren,

Exalted thee their king. When thy great will
Commands thy chariot forth, impetuous strength
And fiery swiftness wing the rapid wheels,
Incessant; high the eagle flies before thee.
And oh as I and mine consult thy augur,
Grant the glad omen: let thy favourite rise
Propitious, ever soaring from the right.

Thou to the lesser gods hast well assign'd
Their proper shares of power: thy own, great Jove,
Boundless and universal. Those who labour
The sweaty forge, who edge the crooked scythe,
Bend stubborn steel, and harden gleening armour,
Acknowledge Vulcan's aid. The early hunter
Blesses Diana's hand, who leads him safe

O'er hanging cliffs, who spreads his net successful,
And guides the arrow through the panther's heart.
The soldier, from successful camps returning
With laurel wreath'd, and rich with hostile spoil,
Severs the buil to Mars. The skilful baril,
Striking the Thracian harp, invokes Apollo,
To make his hero and himself immortal.
Those, mighty Jove, mean time, thy glorious care,
Who model nations, publish laws, announce
Or life or death, and found or change the empire.
Man owns the power of kings; and kings of Jove.
And, as their actions tend subordinate
To what thy will designs, thou giv'st the means
Proportion'd to the work; thou seest impartial
How they those means employ. Each monarch
His different realm, accountable to thee,
Great ruler of the world: these only have
To speak and be obey'd; to those are given
Assistant days to ripen the design;

To some whole months, revolving years to some;
Others, ill-fated, are condemn'd to toil
Their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blasted
With fruitless act, and impotence of council.

Hail! greatest son of Saturn, wise disposer
Of every good thy praise what man yet born
Has sung or who that may be born shall sing?
Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer,
Great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth:
For, without virtue, wealth no man avails not;
And virtue without wealth exerts less power,
And less diffuses good. Then grant us, gracious,
Virtue and wealth; for both are of thy gift!

THE SECOND HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS
TO APOLLO.

HA! how the laurel, great Apollo's tree,
And all the cavern shakes! far off, far off,
The man that is unhallow'd: for the god,
The god approaches. Hark! he knocks; the gates
Feel the glad impulse; and the sever'd bars
Submissive clink against their brazen portals.
Why do the Delian palms incline their boughs,
Self-mov'd? and hovering swans, their throats re-
leas'd

From native silence, carof sounds harmonious?.

Begin, young men, the hymn: let all your
harps

Break their inglorious silence; and the dance,
In mystic numbers trod, explain the music.
But first, by ardent prayer, and clear lustration,
Purge the contagious spots of human weakness:
Impure no mortal can behold Apollo.
So may ye flourish, favour'd by the god,
In youth with happy nuptials; and in age
With silver hair, and fair descent of children!
So lay foundations' for aspiring cities,
And bless your spreading colonies' increase!
Pay sacred reverence to Apollo's song;
Lest wrathful the far-shooting god emit
His fatal arrows.
Silent Nature stands;

And seas subside, obedient to the sound
Of lö, lö Pean! nor dares Thetis,
Longer bewail her lov'd Achilles' death;
For Phoebus was his foe. Nor must sad Niobe
In fruitless sorrow persevere, or weep
Ev'n through the Phrygian marble.
mother!

Hapless [spring Whose fondness could compare her mortal offTo those which fair Latona bore to Jove.

Io! again repeat ye, lö Pean!

Against the deity 'tis hard to strive. He, that resists the power of Ptolemy,

Resists the power of Heaven; for power from
Heaven

Derives, and monarchs rule by gods appointed.
Recite Apollo's praise, till night draws on,
The ditty still unfinish'd; and the day
Unequal to the godhead's attributes
Various, and matter copious of your songs.

Sublime at Jove's right-hand Apollo sits,
And thence distributes honour, gracious king,
And theme of verse perpetual. From his robe
Flows light ineffable: his harp, his quiver,
And Lietian bow, are gold: with golden sandals
His feet are shod; how rich! how beautiful!
Beneath his steps the yellow mineral rises,
And Earth reveals her treasures. Youth and beauty
Eternal deck his cheeks: from his fair head
Perfumes distill their sweets; and cheerful Health,
Ilis duteous handmaid, through the air improv'd,
With lavish hand diffuses scents ambrosial.

The spearman's arm by thee, great god, directed, Sends forth a certain wound. The laurel'd bard, Inspir'd by thee, composes verse immortal. Taught by thy art divine, the sage physician Eludes the urn; and chains or exiles Death.

Thee. Nomian, we adore; for that, from Heaven
Descending, thou on fair Amphrysus' banks
Didst guard Admetus' herds. Sithence the cow
Produc'd an ampler store of milk; the she-goat,
Not without pain, dragg'd her distended udder;
And ewes, that erst brought forth but single lambs,
Now dropp'd their two-fold burthens. Blest the
On which Apollo cast his favouring eye! [cattle,
But, Phoebus, thou to man beneficent,
Delight'st in building cities. Bright Diana,
Kind sister to thy infant deity,

New-wean'd, and just arising from the cradle,
Brought hunted wild-goats' heads, and branching
Of stags, the fruit and honour of her toil. [antlers
These with discerning hand thou knew'st to range
(Young as thou wast) and in the well-fram'd
With emblematic skill, and mystic order, [models,
Thou show'st where towers or battlements should
rise,

Where gates should open, or where walls should compass:

While from thy childish pastime man receiv'd
The future strength and ornament of nations.

Battus, our great progenitor, now touch'd
The Libyan strand: when the foreboding crow
Flew on the right before the people, marking
The country, destin'd the auspicious seat
Of future kings, and favour of the god,
Whose oath is sure, and promise stands eternal.

Or Boëdromian hear'st thou pleas'd, or Clarian
Phoebus, great king? for different are thy names,
As thy kind hand has founded many cities,
Or dealt benign thy various gifts to man.
Carnean let me call thee; for my country
Calls thee Carnean: the fair colony
Thrice by thy gracions guidance was transported,
Ere settled in Cyrene; there w' appointed
Thy annual feasts, kind god, and bless thy altars
Smoking with hecatombs of slaughter'd bulls,
As Carnus, thy high priest and favour'd friend,
Had erst ordain'd; and with mysterious rites,
Our great forefathers taught their sons to worship
lo Carnean Phoebus! Iö Pean!

The yellow crocus there and fair narcissus
Reserve the honours of their winter-store,
To deck thy temple; till returning spring
Diffuses Nature's various pride; and flowers
Innumerable, by the soft south-west

Open'd, and gather'd by religious hands,
Rebound their sweets from th' odoriferous pave-

ment.

[beat

Perpetual fires shine hallow'd on thy altars,
When annual the Carnean feast is held;
The warlike Libyans, clad in armour, lead
The dance; with clanging swords and shields they
The dreadful measure: in the chorus join
Their women, brown but beautiful: such rites
To thee well-pleasing. Nor had yet thy votaries,
From Greece transplanted, touch'd Cyrene's banks,
And lands determin'd for their last abodes;
But wander'd through. Azilis' horrid forest
Dispers'd; when from Myrtusa's craggy brow,
Fond of the maid, auspicious to the city,
Which must hereafter bear her favour'd name,
Thou gracious deign'st to let the fair-one view
Her typic people; thou with pleasure taught st her
To draw the bow, to slay the shaggy lion,
And stop the spreading rain of the plains.
Happy the nymph, who, honour'd by thy passion,
Was aided by thy power! The monstrous Python
Durst tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell,
To thy great strength and golden arms unequal
lo! while thy unerring hand clanc'd
Another, and another dart; the people
Joyfully repeated lö! lö Pean!
Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety
And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee
Envy, thy latest foe, suggested thus:
"Like thee I am a power immortal; therefore
To thee dare speak. How canst thou favour partial
Those poets who write little? Vast and great
Is what I love: the far-cxtended ocean
To a small rivulet I prefer." Apollo
Spurn'd Envy with his foot; and thus the god :
Demon, the head-long current of Euphrates,
Assyrian river, copious runs, but muddy,
And carries forward with his stupid force
Polluting dirt; his torrent still augmenting,
His wave still more defil'd: mean while the nymphs

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Melissan, sacred and recluse to Ceres,
Studious to have their offerings well receiv'd,
And fit for heavenly use, from little urns
Pour streams select, and purity of waters."
Iö! Apollo, mighty king, let Envy
Ill-judging and verbose, from Lethe's lake
Draw tuns unmeasurable; while thy favour
Administers to my ambitious thirst

The wholesome draught from Aganippe's spring
Genuine, and with soft murmurs gently rilling
Adown the mountains where thy daughters haunt,

CHARITY.

A PARAPHRASE ON THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER OF THE
FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS.

DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronoune'd, or angels sung;
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I power to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling Earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw
When Moses gave them miracles and law:
Yet, gracious Charity indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A tymbal's sound were better than my voice;
My faith were form, my eloquence were noise.
Charity, decent, modest, casy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind,
Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft peace she brings where-ever she arrives;
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even,
And opens in each heart a little Heaven.

Each other gift, which God on man bestows,
Its proper bound and due restriction knows ;
To one fixt purpose dedicates its power,
And, finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease;
But lasting Charity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live,

And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.
As, through the artist's intervening glass,
Our eye observes the distant planets pass,
A little we discover, but allow

That more remains unseen, than art can show:
So, whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble cyc intent on things above)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope:

Yet we are able only to survey
Dawning of beams, and promises of day.
Heaven's fuller efluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Tuo great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd;
The Sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.
Then constant Faith and holy Hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy :
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsun'd thy flame,
Shalt still survive-

Shalt stand before the host of Heaven confest,
For ever biessing, and for ever blest.

CUPID IN AMBUSH.

Ir oft to many has successful been,

Upon his arm to let his mistress lean,
Or with her airy fan to cool her heat,
Or gently squeeze her knees, or press her feet.
All public sports, to favour young desire,
With opportunities like this conspire.
Ev'n where his skill the gladiator shows,
With human blood where the Arena flows;
There oftentimes Love's quiver-bearing boy
Prepares his bow and arrows to destroy:
While the spectator gazes on the sight,
And sees them wound each other with delight;
While he his pretty mistress entertains,
And wagers with her who the conquest gains;
Slily the god takes aim, and hits his heart,
And in the wounds he sees he bears his part,

ENGRAVED ON A COLUMN IN THE

CHURCH OF HALSTEAD IN ESSEX;

THE SPIRE OF WHICH, BURNT DOWN BY LIGHTNING, WAS REBUILT AT THE EXPENCE OF MR. SAMUEL FISKE, 1717.

VIEW not this spire by measure given
To buildings rais'd by common hands!
That fabric rises high as Heaven,

Whose basis on devotion stands.
While yet we draw this vital breath,
We can our faith and hope declare;
But charity beyond our death

Will ever in our works appear, Best be he call'd among good men,

Who to his God this column rais'd:
Though lightning strike the dome again,
The man, who built it, shall be prais'd;
Yet sires and towers in dust shall lie,

The weak efforts of human pains ;
And Faith and Hope themselves shall die,
While deathless Charity remains.

ALMA: OR,

THE PROGRESS OF THE MIND.

IN THREE CANTOS.

Πάντα γέλως, καὶ πάντα κόνις, καὶ πάντα τὸ μηδέν·
Πάντα γὰρ ἐξ ἀλόγων ἐστὶ τὰ γιγνόμενα.
Incert. ap. Stobæum.

CANTO I.

MATTHEW1 met Richard2, when or where
From story is not mighty clear:
Of many knotty points they spoke,
And pro and con by turns they took.
Rats half the manuscript have eat!
Dire hunger! which we still regret.
O may they ne'er again digest
The horrours of so sad a feast!
Yet less our grief, if what remains,
Dear Jacob, by thy care and pains
Shall be to future times convey'd.
It thus begins:

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Here Matthew said, "Alma in verse, in prose the Mind, By Aristotle's pen defin'd,

Throughout the body, squat or tall,
Is, bona fide, all in all.

And yet, slap-dash, is all again

In every sinew, nerve, and vein:

Runs here and there, like Hamlet's ghost;
While every where she rules the roast.

"This system, Richard, we are told,
The men of Oxford firmly hold.
The Cambridge wits, you know, deny
With ipse dixit to comply.

They say, (for in good truth they speak
With small respect of that old Greek)
That, putting all his words together,
'Tis three blue beans in one blue bladder.
"Alma, they strenuously maintain,
Sits cock-horse on her throne, the brain;
And from that seat of thought dispenses
Her sovereign pleasure to the senses.
Two optic nerves, they say, she ties,
Like spectacles, across the eyes;
By which the spirits bring her word,
Whene'er the balls are fix'd or stirr'd,
How quick at park and play they strike;
The duke they court; the toast they like;
And at St. James's turn their grace
From former friends, now out of place.
"Without these aids, to be more serious,
power, they hold, had been precarious:
eyes might have conspir'd her ruin,
And she not known what they were doing.
Foolish it had been, and unkind,
That they should see, aad she be blind.
"Wise Nature likewise, they suppose,
Has drawn two conduits down our nose:
Could Alma else with judgment tell
When cabbage stinks, or roses smell?
Or who would ask for her opinion
Between an oyster and an onion?
For from most bodies, Dick, you know,
Some little bits ask leave to flow;

Her

The

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And, as through these canals they roll,
Bring up a sample of the whole;
Like footmen running before coaches,
To tell the inn what lord approaches.

66

By nerves about our palate plac'd, She likewise judges of the taste.

Else (dismal thought!) our warlike men Might drink thick port for fine champagne ; And our ill judging wives and daughters Mistake small beer for citron-waters.

"Hence, too, that she might better hear, She sets a drum at either ear: And, loud or gentle, harsh or sweet, Are but th' alarums which they beat.

"Last, to enjoy her sense of feeling, (A thing she much delights to deal in) A thousand little nerves she sends Quite to our toes and fingers' ends; And these, in gratitude, again Return their spirits to the brain; In which their figure being printed, (As just before, I think, I hinted) Alına, inform'd, can try the case, As she had been upon the place.

"Thus, while the judge gives different journies To country council and attornies, He on the bench in quiet sits,

Deciding, as they bring the writs.

The pope thus prays and sleeps at Rome,
And very seldom stirs from home:
Yet, sending forth his holy spies,
And having heard what they advise,
He rules the church's blest dominions,
And sets men's faith by his opinions.
"The scholars of the Stagyrite,
Who for the old opinion fight,
Would make their modern friends confess
The difference but from more to less.
The Mind, say they, while you sustain
To hold her station in the brain;
You grant, at least, she is extended:
Ergo the whole dispute is ended.
For, till to morrow should you plead,
From form and structure to the head,
The Mind as visibly is seen

Extended through the whole machine.
Why should all honour then be ta'en
From lower parts to load the brain,
When other limbs, we plainly see,
Each in his way, as brisk as he?
For music, grant the head receive it,
It is the artist's hand that gave it ;
And, though the skull may wear the laurel,
The soldier's arın sustains the quarrel.
Besides, the nostrils, ears, and eyes.
Are not his parts, but his allies;
Ev'n what you hear the tongue proclaim
Comes ab origine from them.
What could the head perform alone,
If all their friendly aids were gone?

A foolish figure he must make;
Do nothing else but sleep and ake.
"Nor matters it, that you can show
How to the head the spirits go;
Those spirits started from some goal,
Before they through the veins could roll.
Now, we should hold them much to blame,
If they went back, before they came.
"If, therefore, as we must suppose,
They came from fingers, and from toes;

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