CI5e 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 An Epistle from William Lord Russell 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
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 A N 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 FROM 
 
 WILLIAM LORD RUSSELL, 
 
 T O 
 WILLIAM LORD CAVENDISH. 
 
 By GEORGE CANNING, of the Middle Temple, Efq. 
 
 Nulla dies unquam tnemori vos eximet ccvo. Virgil. 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for the AUTHOR; 
 
 And fold by R. and J. Bodjley in Pall-Mai!, T. Becket and P. A. Be Uondt 
 in the Strand, and C Hcnderfcii at the Royal Exchange. 
 
 M DCC LxTlL
 
 -Si
 
 
 A D V E R T I S E M E N T. 
 
 y /;^J5 following Kpiftle is fuppofed to have 
 been written by Lord Russell, on Friday 
 Nighty July zothy 1683, in Newgate 5 that 
 prifon having been the place of his confinement 
 for fome days immediately preceding his exccu' 
 tion^ 
 
 953410
 
 ^
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 
 
 A N 
 
 EPISTLE, ^c. 
 
 r)K^^30ST to the world, tomorrow doom'd to die, 
 ^ L ^ Still for my Country's weal my heart beats high. 
 k.^)^)^jt« Tpho' rattling chains ring peals of horror round, 
 While night's black fhades augment the favage found, 
 'Midft bolts and bars the adive foul is free, 
 And flies, unfetter'd, Cavendish, to thee. 
 
 Th 
 
 ou
 
 8 A N E P r 5 T L E. 
 
 Thou dear companion of my better days, 
 When hand in hand we trod the paths of praife; 
 When, leagii'd with patriots, we maintain'd the caufe 
 Of true religion, liberty, and laws,. 
 Difdaining down the golden flream to glide, 
 But bravely ftemm'd Corruption's rapid tide ;; 
 Think not I come to bid thy tears to flow, 
 Gr melt thy gen'rous foul with tales of woe;. 
 No: view me firm, unfliaken, undifmay'd. 
 
 As when the welcome mandate I obey'd 
 
 Heav'ns! with what pride that moment I recall! 
 Who would not wifli, fo honour'd, thus to fall ! 
 When England's Genius, hov'ring o'er, infpir'd. 
 Her Chosen Sons, with love of Freedom fir'd. 
 Spite of an abje6l, fervilc, pcnfion'd train, 
 Minions of Pow'r, and worfhippers of Gain, 
 To fave from Bigotry its deRin'd prey. 
 And fliield three nations from tyrannick fway.. 
 
 'Twas
 
 ANEPISTLE. 9 
 
 'T was, then my Ca''ndisii caught the glorious flame, 
 The happy omen of his future fame; 
 Adorn'd by Nature, perfected by Art, 
 The cleareft head, and vvarmeft, nobleft heart. 
 His words, deep finking in each captiv'd ear. 
 Had pow'r to make ev'n Liberty more dear. 
 
 While I, unfkill'd in oratory's lore," 
 Whofe tongue ne'er fpeaks but when the heart runs o'er, 
 In plain blunt phrafe my honeft thoughts exprefs'd, 
 Warm from the heart, and to the heart addrefs'd. 
 
 Juftice prevaird; yes Juftice, let me fay. 
 Well pois'd her fcales on that aufpicious day. 
 The watchful fhepherd fpies the wolf afar. 
 Nor trufts his flock to try tli' unequal war ; 
 What though the favage crouch in humble guife, 
 And check the fire that flafhes from his eyes ? 
 Should once his barb'rous fangs the fold invade, 
 V^in were their cries, too late the fhepherd's aid, 
 
 C Thirftin^
 
 ^.o AN EPISTLE. 
 
 Thirfting for blood, he knows not Iiow to fpare, 
 rHis jaws diftend, his liery eyeballs glare, 
 While ghaflly Defolation, talking round. 
 With mangled limbs beflrev/s the purple ground. 
 
 Now, Memory, fail 1 nor let my mind revolve, 
 How England's .Peers annuU'd the jufl: Refolve, 
 Againft her bofom aim'd a deadly blow. 
 And laid at once her a;reat Palladium low! 
 
 Degen'rate nobles ! yes, by Heav'n I fvvcar, 
 Had Bedford's felf appear'd delinquent there. 
 And join'd, forgetful of his country's claims, 
 To thwart th' Exclusion of Apostate James., 
 All filial ties had then been left at large, 
 And I myfelf the firft to urge the charge. 
 
 Such the fix'd fentiments that rule my foul, 
 Time cannot change, nor Tyranny controul ; 
 
 While
 
 AN E P I S T L E. 
 
 While free, they hung upon my pendvc bro',7, 
 Then my chief care, my pride and glory now ; 
 Foil'd I fubmit, nor think the meafure hard, 
 For eoNscious Virtue is it's own RiiWARD. 
 
 Vain then is force, and vain each fubtile art. 
 To wring retraction from my tortur'd heart; 
 There lie, in marks indelible engraved, 
 The means whereby my country mufl: be fav'd ; 
 Are to thine eyes thofc characters unknown? 
 To read my inmoft heart, confult thine own ; 
 There wilt thou find this facred truth reveal'd, 
 "Which fliall tomorrow with my blood be feafJ, 
 Seek not infirm Expedients to explore, 
 -But banish James, or England is no more. 
 
 Friend {Lip her tender offices may fparc, 
 Nor ftrive to move the unforgiving pair, 
 
 Hopelefs the tyrant's mercy-feat to climb 
 
 Zeal for my country's freedom is my crime ! 
 
 II 
 
 'Ere
 
 13 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 'Ere that meets pardon, lambs with wolves fhall range,. 
 Charles be a Sauit, and James his nature change.. 
 
 Prefs'd by my friend s, and Rachel's fond delires> 
 (Who can deny what weeping love requires !) 
 Frailty prevail'd, and for a moment quell'd 
 Til' indignant pride that in my bofom fwell'd ;- 
 I fued— the weak attempt I blufll to own — 
 I fued for mercy, proflrate at the throne. , 
 O! blot the foible out, my noble friend, 
 With human firmnefs human feelings blend I 
 Wlien Love's endearments fofteft moments feize^ 
 And Love's dear pledges hang upon the knees, 
 When nature's flrongeft ties the foul enthrall, 
 (Thou can'ft conceive, for thou haft felt, them all..') 
 Let him reiift their prevalence, who can ; 
 He muft, indeed, be more, or lefs than man. . 
 
 Yet let me yield my Rachel honour duCj, 
 The tend'reft wafe, the nobleft heroine too ! 
 
 Anxious
 
 AN EPISTLE. 13 
 
 Anxious to fave her hufband's honeft name. 
 
 Dear was his Hfe, but dearer ftill his fame ! 
 
 When fuppliant pray'rs no pardon could obtain, 
 
 And, wond'rous ilrange! ev'n Bedford's Gold prov'dvain, 
 
 Th' informer's part her gen'rous foul aljhorr'd. 
 
 Though life preferv'd had been the fure reward ; 
 
 Let impious Howard ad: fuch trcachrous fcenes, 
 
 And fhrink from death by fuch opprobrious means. 
 
 O! my lov'd Rachel! nanae for ever dear! 
 Not writ, not fpoke, not thought without a tear ! 
 Whofe heav'ixly virtues, and unfiiding charms. 
 Have blefs'd through happy years my peaceful arms ! 
 Parting with thee into- my cup was thrown,. 
 Its harfheft dregs elfe had not forc'd a groan ! — 
 But all is o'er — thefe eyes have gaz'd their laft — 
 And now the bitternefs of death is paft. 
 
 Burnet and Tillotson, with pious care> 
 My fleeting foul for heav'nly blifs prepare, 
 
 D Wide-
 
 14 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 Wide to my view the glorious realms difplay, 
 Pregnant v/ith joy, and bright with endlefs day. 
 Charm'd, as of old when Israel's Prophet fung, 
 Whofe words diftill'd like manna from his tongue. 
 While the great bard fublimefl: truths explor'd, 
 Each ravifli'd hearer wonder'd and ador'd ; 
 So rapt, fo charm'd, my foul begins to rife, 
 Spurns the bafe earth, and feems to reach the fkies. 
 
 But when, defcending from the facred theme, 
 Of boundlefs pow'r, and excellence fupreme, 
 They would for man, and his precarious throne, 
 Exad obedience, due to Heav'n alone. 
 Forbid refiftance to his worft commands, 
 And place God's thunderbolts in mortal hands; 
 The vifion finks to life's contraded fpan, 
 And riling pafTion fpeaks me ftill a man. 
 
 What ! fhall a tyrant trample on the laws, 
 And flop the fource whence all his pow'r he draws ? 
 
 His
 
 AIN EPISTLE. 15 
 
 His country's rights' to foreign foes betray, 
 
 Lavifli her wealth, yet flipulatc for pay ? , 
 
 To (liameful fahlioods venal flaves fuborn. 
 
 And dare to laugh the virtuous man to fcorn ? 
 
 Deride Religion, Jufticc, Honour, Fame, 
 
 And hardly know of Honefty the name? 
 
 In Luxury's lap lie fcreen'd from cares and pains. 
 
 And only toil to forge his fubjecls chains ? 
 
 And fhall he hope the publick voice to drown, 
 
 The voice which gave, and can refume his crown I 
 
 When Confcience bares her horrors, and the dread 
 Of fudden vengeance, burfting o'er his head, 
 Wrings his black foul ; when injur'd nations groan. 
 And cries of millions fhake his tott'rino: throne : 
 Shall flatt 'ring churchmen foothe his guilty ears, 
 With tortur'd texts, to calm his growing fears ; 
 Exalt his pow'r above th' ^Ethereal climes. 
 And call down Heav'n to fandlify his crimes ! 
 
 0!i 
 
 impious
 
 i6 AN EPISTLE, 
 
 O ! impious dodrine!— Servile priefts away ! 
 Your Prince you poifon, and your God betray. 
 
 Hapless the monarch ! who, in evil hour, 
 Drinks from your cup the draught of lawlefs povv'r ! 
 The magick potion boils within his veins, 
 And locks each fenfe in adamantine chains ; 
 Reafon revolts, infatiate third enfues, 
 The wild delirium each frefli draught renews; 
 In vain his people urge him to refrain,. 
 His faithful fervants fupplicate in vain ; 
 He quaffs at length, impatient of controul,. 
 The bitter dregs that lurk within the bowL 
 
 Zeal your pretence, but wealth and pow'r your aims^ 
 You ev'n could make a Solomon of James. 
 Behold the Pedant, thron'd in aukward ftatCj. 
 Abforb'd In pride, ridiculoufly great ; 
 His courtiers feem to tremble at his nod,. 
 His prelates call his voice the voice of God ; 
 
 Weaknei^
 
 A N E P I S T L E. 17 
 
 Wcaknefs and vanity with tlicm combine, 
 And James believes his Majesty Divine. 
 Prefumptuous wretch ! ahnighty pow'r to fcan,. 
 While cv'ry adion proves him lefs than man. 
 
 By your delufions to the fcafiold led, 
 Martyr'd by you, a Royal Charles has bled. 
 Teach then, ye fycophants 1 O ! teach his fon. 
 The gloomy paths of Tyranny to fliun ; 
 Teach him to prize Religion's facred claim. 
 Teach him how Virtue leads to honefl; fame. 
 How Freedom's wreath a monarch's brows adorns. 
 Nor, bafely fawning, plant his couch with thorns. 
 Point to his view his people's love alone, 
 The folid bafis of his ftedfaft throne ; 
 Chofen by them their deareft rights to guard, 
 The bad to punifh, and the good reward, 
 Clement and juft let him the fceptre fvvay. 
 And willing fubjeds fhall with pride obey, 
 
 E; Shall
 
 i8 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 Shall^vie to execute his high commands, 
 
 Mis throne their hearts, his fvvord and iliield their hands. 
 
 Happy the Prince ! thrice firmly fix'd his crown 1 
 Who builds on publick good his chafte renown ; 
 Studious to blefs, who knows no lecond aim, 
 His people's intereft, and his own the fame; 
 The eafe of millions refts upon his cares, 
 And THUS Fleav'n's high prerogative he fliares. 
 Wide from the throne the blefs'd contagion fprcads, 
 O'er all the land it's glodd'ning influence flieds, 
 Faction's difcordant founds are heard no more, 
 And foul Corruption flies th' indignant fhore. 
 
 His miniflers with joy their courfes run. 
 And borrow luftre from the Royal Sun. 
 
 But fliould feme upftart, train'd in Slavery's fchool, 
 Learn'd in the maxims of delpotick rule, 
 
 Full
 
 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 »9 
 
 Full fraught with forms, and gfave pedaiuick pride, 
 (Myfterious cloak ! the mind's defeds to hide !) 
 Sordid in fmall things, prodigal in great, 
 
 Saving for minions, fquand'ring for the ftatc 
 
 Should fuch a mifcreant, born for England's banc, 
 Obfcurc the glories of a profp'rous reign ; 
 Gain, by the femblance of each praifeful art, 
 A pious prince's unlufped:ing heart; 
 Envious of worth, and talents not his own, 
 Chafe all experienc'd merit from the throne; 
 To guide the helm a motley crew compofc, 
 Servile to him, the king's and country's foes; 
 Meanly defcend each paltry place to fill, 
 With tools of pow'r, and pandars to his will ; 
 Brandifiiing high the fcorpion fcourge o'er all. 
 Except fuch ilaves as bow the knee to Baal — 
 Should Albion's fate decree the baneful hour- 
 Short be the date of his detcfted pow'r ! 
 Soon may his fovereign break his iron rods, 
 And hear his people, for their voice is God's! 
 
 Ceafv;
 
 20 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 Ceafe then your wiles, ye fawning courtiers ! ceafe,. 
 SuiFer your rulers to repofe in peace ; 
 By Reafon led, give proper names to things, 
 God made them Men, the People made them Kings ^ 
 To all their a6ls but legal pow'r s belong, 
 TPIUS England's Monarch never can do Wrong;;, 
 Of Right Divine let foolish Filmer dream, 
 The Poblickl Welfare is the Law Supreme.. 
 
 Lives there a wretch, whofe bafe, degen'rate foulg. 
 Can crouch beneath a Tyrant's ftern controul ? 
 Cringe to his- nod, ignobly kifs the hand. 
 In (^ailing chains that binds his native land ? 
 Purchased by gold, or aw'd by flavifli fear,. 
 Abandon all his anceftors held dear ? 
 Tamely behold that fruit of glorious toil, 
 England's Great Charter made a Ruffian's fpoil?' 
 Hear, unconcern'd, his injur'd country groan. 
 Nor ftretch an arm to hurl him from the throne? 
 
 Let
 
 AN EPISTLE. 21 
 
 Let fuch to freedom forfeit all their claims, 
 And Charles's Minions be the Slaves of James. 
 
 But foft awhile — Now, Cavendish, attend 
 The warm effufions of thy dying friend ; 
 Fearlcfs who dares his inmoft thoughts reveal, 
 When thus to Heav'n he makes his laft appeal. 
 
 Allgracious God ! whofe goodnefs knows no bounds ^ 
 Whofe povv'r the ample univerfe furrounds ! 
 In whofe great balance, infinitely juft, 
 Kings are but Men, and Men are only Duft I 
 At thy tribunal low thy fuppliant falls. 
 And Here condemned, on Thee for mercy calls ! 
 
 Thou hear'ft not, Lord 1 an hypocrite complain, 
 And fure with thee hypocrify were vain ; 
 To thy all-pierting eye the heart lies bare. 
 Thou know"' ft my fins, and, knowing, ftill canft fpare ! 
 Though partial Pow'r it's minifters may awe, 
 And murdei Here by fpecious forms of law ; 
 
 F The
 
 22 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 The axe, which executes the harfli decree, 
 Wounds but the fleOi, to fet the fpirit free ! 
 Well may the man a tyrant's frown defpife, 
 Who, fpurning Earth, to Heav'n for refuge flies ;, 
 And on thy mercy, when his foes prevail,,.; __ 
 Builds his firm truft; that rock can never fail!' 
 
 Hear then Jehovah ! hear thy fervant's pray'r !. 
 Be England's welfare thy peculiar care !. 
 Defend her laws, her worfhip chafte, and pure. 
 And guard her Rights while Earth and Heav'n endure!' 
 O! let not ever fell Tyrannick Sway,, 
 His bloodflain'd ftandard on her fhores difplay ! 
 Nor fiery zeal ufurp thy holy name, 
 Blinded with blood, and wrapt in rolls of flame T 
 In vain let Slavery fliake her threat'ning chain, 
 And Perfecution wave her torch in vain! 
 Arife, O Lord ! and hear thy people's call I 
 Nor for one man let three great kingdoms fall!' 
 
 O ! that my blood may glut the barb'rous rage,- 
 Of Freedom's foes, and England's ills alTuage!"— 
 
 Grant
 
 A K E P I S T L E. 23 
 
 Grant but that pray'r, I afk for no repeal, 
 A willing vidim for my country's weal' 
 With raptVous joy the crimfon ftream (hall Row, 
 And my heart leap to meet the friendly blow ! 
 
 But fliould the fiend, tho' drench'd with human gore. 
 Dire Bigotry, infatiate, thirft for more,. 
 And, arm'd from Rome, feek this devoted land, 
 Death in her eye, and Bondage in her hand — 
 Blaft her fell purpofe • blaft her foul defires ' 
 Break fliort her fword, and quench her horrid fires' 
 
 Raife up fome champion, zealous to maintain 
 The ficred compad:, by which monarchs reign ■ 
 Wife to forefce all danger from afar. 
 And brave to meet the thunders of the war ' 
 Let pure religion, not to forms confin'd, . 
 And love of freedom fill his gen'rous mind- 
 Warm let his breaft with fparks ccelertial glow. 
 Benign to A^Lan, the Tyrant's deadly foe! 
 While finking nations reft upon his arm. 
 Do Thou the Great Deliverer fhield from harm -' 
 
 Lifpire
 
 2.4 AN EPISTLE. 
 
 InTpire his councils ! aid his righteous fWvPrdJ 
 Till Albion rings with Liberty restgr'dI 
 Thence let her years in bright fucceiHon run; 
 And Freedom reign coseval with the Sun' 
 
 'Tis done, my Ca'ndish", Heav'ii has heard my pray*r ; 
 So fpeaks my heart, for all is rapture there. 
 
 To Belgia's coaft advert thy ravifh'd eyes, 
 That happy coall, whence all our hopes arife ! 
 Behold the Prince, perhaps thy future King' 
 From whofe green years matureft blefUngs fpring; 
 Whofe youthful arm, when all-o'erwhelming Pow'r 
 Ruthlefs marchM forth, his country to devour, 
 With firm-brac'd nerve repell'd the brutal force, 
 And flopped th' unwieldy Giant in his courfe. 
 
 Great William liaiU who fceptres could'ft defpifc, 
 And fpurn a crown with unretorted eyes ' 
 
 O when
 
 A N E P 1 S T L E. 25 
 
 O ! when will princes learn to copy thee, 
 
 And leave mankind, as Heav'n ordain'd them, free ! 
 
 Hafte, mighty chief ! Our injur'd rights rcftore ! 
 Quick fpread thy fails for Albion's longing fhore! 
 Haftc, mighty chief! 'Ere millions groan enflav'd j 
 And add Three realms to One already fav'd ! 
 While Freedom lives. Thy Memory fhall be dear, 
 And reap frefh honours each returning year ; 
 Nations preferv'd {hall yield immortal flime, 
 And endlefs ages blefs Thy Glorious Name I 
 
 Then fliall my Ca'ndish, foremoft in the field, 
 By Juftice arm'd, his fword confpicuous wield j 
 While willing legions crowd around his car. 
 And rufli impetuous to the righteous war. 
 On that great day be cv'ry chance defied. 
 And think thy Russell combats by thy fide; 
 Nor, crown'd with vidlory, ceafe thy gen'rous toil, 
 Till firmefl: peace fecure this happy ifle. 
 
 G Ne'er
 
 26 AN E P I S T L E. 
 
 Ne'er let thine honeft, open heart beHeve 
 Proreilions fpecious, forg'd but to deceive j 
 Fear may extort them, when Refources fail. 
 But O! rcjccl the bafelefs, fiatt'ring tale. 
 
 Think not that promifes, or oaths can bind^, 
 With folemn ties, a RoME-devoted mind; 
 Which yields to all the holy juggler faith. 
 And deep imbibes the bloody, damning faith; 
 What though the Bigot raife to Heav'n his eycs> 
 And call th' Almighty witnefs from the fkies! 
 Soon as the wiili'd occalion he explores, 
 To plant the Roman Cross on England's fhoresj 
 All, all will vaniili, while his Pricfts applaud, 
 And Saint the Perjurer for the Pious Fraud. 
 
 Far let him fly thefe freedom-breathing climes. 
 And fcek proud Rome, the foft'rer of his crimes ; 
 There let him ftrive to mount the Papal Chair, 
 And fcatter empty thunders in the air. 
 
 Grimly
 
 A. N E P I S T L E.. 27 
 
 Grimly, prcfide in Superftition's fcliool, 
 
 And cuiTe thofe kingdoms he could never rule. 
 
 Here let me paufc, and bid the world adieu, . 
 While Heav'n's bright manfions open to my view ! — 
 
 Yet ftill one care, one tender care remains ; 
 My bounteous friend, relieve a father's pains ! 
 Watch o'er my Son, inform his waxen youth, 
 And mould his mind to virtue and to truth; 
 Soon let him learn fair Liberty to prize, 
 And envy hmi, who for his country diesj 
 In one fhort fentence to comprize the whole, 
 Transfufe to His the virtues of Thy foul. 
 
 Preferve thy life, my too, too gen'rous friend. 
 Nor fcek with mine thy happier fate to blend ! 
 Live for thy country, live to guard her laws. 
 Proceed, and profper in the glorious caufe j 
 
 While
 
 28 AN E P I S T L E. 
 
 While Ij though vanquiih'd, fcorn the field to fly. 
 But boldly face my foes, and bravely die. 
 
 Let princely Monmouth courtly wiles beware. 
 Nor truft too far to fond paternal care ; 
 Too oft dark deeds deform the midnight cell, 
 Heav'n only knows how noble Essex fell! 
 Sidney yet lives, whofe comprehenfive mind 
 Ranges at large through fyftems unconfin'd ; 
 Wrapt in himfeif, he fcorns the tyrant's powV, 
 And hurls defiance even from the Tow'r ; 
 With tranquil brow awaits th' unjuft decree, 
 And, arm'd with virtue, looks to follow me. 
 
 Ca'ndish, farewell I may Fame our names entwine 1 
 Through life I lov'd thee, dying I am thine ; 
 With pious rites let duft to dufi: be thrown, 
 .-And thus infcribe my monumental ftone. 
 
 •'Here
 
 AN E P I S T L E. 29 
 
 Hekf, Russell lies, cnfiarichis'd by the grave. 
 He pri/-'d his birthright, nor v/oiild live a ilavc. 
 Fcv/ were his words, but hoiieft and fineere, 
 Dear were his friends, his country Aill more dear \ 
 In parents, children, wife, fupremely blefs'd. 
 But that one paflion fwallow'd all the reft ; 
 To guard her freedom was his only pride. 
 Such was his love, and for that love he died. 
 
 Yet fear not Thou, when Liberty diiplays 
 Her glorious flag, to fteer his courfe to praife ; 
 For knov/, (whoe'er thou art that read'ft his fate, 
 And think'fi:, perhaps, his fuff'rings were too great,) 
 Blefs'd as he was, at her imperial call, 
 Wife, children, parents, he refign'd them all ■; 
 Each fond affedion then forfook his foul. 
 And Amor Patrle occupied the whole; 
 In that great caufe he joy 'd to meet his doom, 
 Bkfs'd the keen axe, and triumph'd o'er the tomb. 
 
 U The
 
 J 
 
 30 A N E P I S T L E. 
 
 The hour draws near — But what are hours to me? 
 Hours, daysj and years hence undiftinguifli'd flee ! 
 Time, and his Glafs unheeded pafs away, 
 Abforb'd, and loft in one vaft flood of day I 
 On Freedom's wings my foul is borne on high; 
 And foars exulting to it's native fky ! 
 
 ? I N I S, 
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 'PR Canning -_ 
 
 3339 An epistle from 
 
 'iSe . ^»illiam Lord 
 
 1763 Russell 
 
 wndowmaS rm2 
 
 3339 
 Cl5e 
 1763 
 
 vJ 
 
 58 
 
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