No More Learning

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? WORONICZ. 121
LOVE AND VIRTUE.
He that can feel within his heart true love
Is virtuous already -- or such will prove.
THE POLES.
Poles ! my dear brethren your high laws are all the same --
Virtue is your element and valor is your name!
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? ARCHBISHOP KRASICKI.
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? KKAS1CKI. 123
KRASICKI.
Ignatz Krasicki, the celebrated archbishop and
poet, is an acknowledged representative of his period.
He was not one of those geniuses who have their mind's
eye fixed upon their own greatness and glory in the
distant future; on the contrary he was a true citizen,
endeavoring in the happiest possible manner to lift up,
not himself, but his fellow-countrymen and the age he
lived in. If even Mother Nature had not fitted him
with that facility and pleasant ways, his own good heart
would have led him to seek the way to conquer super-
stition, bad taste, and especially the carelessness and
indifference to learning. He appeared on the stage
exactly in the right time, when sciences in Poland had
not yet assumed a definable shape, and of course had
not reached the point of desired amplification. The
spirit of philosophy of the eighteenth century, with its
erroneous teachings, was in the ascendant; but Krasicki
overcame that difficulty by boldly yet pleasantly point-
ing out a different and a better way. Although he
himself had been brought up under its baneful influ-
ences, he was able by his writing to gradually reinstate
the old-time customs, faith, and maimers of his
ancestors.
Krasicki occupied a high place in Polish literature.
He was very witty, and although he did not display
great creative powers in his comic composition, he had
a way of his own to sing with the harmony of a bird,
adding to it a precision and a consummate finish. Being
an excellent judge of the human heart, he had a happy
faculty of seeing men and things exactly as they were;
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? 124, POETS AND POETKY OF POLAND.
hence lie was pertinent and practical. He was an
excellent delineator of the faults and foibles of the
living pictures of society.
Among the poetical works of Krasicki his satires
are entitled to the first place and consideration; except
their pungency they have no real bitterness in them,
and always a tendency to correct the existing state of
things. In them he paints in a humorous manner the
customs, ways, and manners so precisely that such a
description was something very uncommon in those
days. While castigating the ways and manners he
invariably brought up an ideal how they should be. If
he ridiculed anything funny, sluggish, or what deserved
reprimand, he at the same time set forth types worthy
of imitation. By such course he plainly proved that
whoever undertakes to point out others' faults he must
love them.
His satires are of two different kinds -- some touch
the weaknesses and defects of the humanity at large,
as for instance "Malice, Hidden and Open," "The
Happiness of Rogues," and "Drunkenness "; in others
again he points out the national shortcomings, as in
"The Fashionable Wife," "The Journey," "Prodi-
gality," "Praise of Age," and "Court Life. " Some,
however, contain irony and sarcasm, as " The Spoiled
World. "
His " Monachomachia, or the War of the Monks,"
was written when he and Voltaire lived together at the
Palace of Sans-Souci. It was a happy occurrence that
when Krasicki embraced Voltaire's philosophical ideas
he did not reach as deeply as Voltaire himself. Having
been born in the southern part of Pussia-Poland he
was by nature true to himself, and did not possess that
virulence of character. Being himself an Ecclesiastic,
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? KRASICKI. 125
he knew the defects and digressions of the clergy, and
inliicced his castigations accordingly. In this produc-
tion lie distinguishes himself in pleasant but harmless
wit, nice imagery, accuracy, and grace of expression.
Throwing the mantle of fun, and even ludicrousness,
over high thoughts, the author exerted great power and
influence in that direction. When it was ascertained
that his intent was misunderstood and misconstrued,
and looked upon as a lampoon on the clergy, and that
many minds were vitiated thereat, Krasicki composed
'? Antimonachomachia '' -- sort of a revocation of the
former poem; but 4i Monachomachia " had neverthe-
less the desired effect in correcting the existing evils.
The subject of the poem was the confederation of the
clergy against the author of the offensive literary
production.
? ? Myszeis " is a playful poem containing within it a
hidden moral and satirical comparisons in regard to
national defects. This contention for the preeminence,
or we should say " Who shall be greatest? " between
rats and mice, means probably the old political wrangles
in Poland, -- misunderstandings or quarrels between
the Senate and the Chivalry of those days.
Besides the satirical writings of Krasicki we can
place his Letters, -- ? the subject matter and the style of
which very much approach his satires. These, being
written in verse after French models, palpably remind
us of the haste and defects of the literature of that
period.
In his "Doswiadczyn? ski" (the man of experience),
a moral tale written in prose, Krasicki paints the social
defects of that time. Thoughtlessness, prodigality,
litigation, bribery, the law intrigues, court eloquence,
are pictured in vivid colors. This jocular but highly
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? 126 POETS AND POETRY OF " POLAND.
interesting production hits somebody or something
every time, and shows in the author an uncommon
talent and discrimination of how and where to casti-
gate national blemishes.
From all of Krasicki's writings his Fables were
perhaps the most popular; they all contain truths,
expressed with great conciseness and wit, comprising
at the same time deep meaning, sound practical philos-
ophy, replete with the spirit of reflection, humanity,
and frequently patriotism. They are all short, prac-
tical tales, allegories, or witty anecdotes. "The War
of Chocim" Krasicki composed to show that a good
epopee could be written in the Polish language.
His " Pan Podstoli " * we consider a valuable
depository, and it stands as a living monument of
Polish ancestry. In this work Krasicki rises higher
in philosophical tendency than any painters of char-
acters or novel-writers have ever led us. In the
representation of Mr. Podstoli he did not follow any
especial ideal, or the originality of any person; he
simply and plainly painted a characteristic portrait of
a citizen, husband, father, and neighbor, who in the
fullness of his own and his family's happiness con-
quers old impediments and defends himself from the
new ones; prizing knowledge, liberal in his household,
generous in his frugality, an indulgent moralist, glad
in the goodness of his heart, sincere in his moderation,
and awakening in every heart a longing desire for hap-
piness similar to his own.
Krasicki is the man of his epoch, not only of the
age he lived in, but for all ages to come, so long as we
will think, feel, and write in Polish. Krasicki had
* Tinder-carver -- An honorary title among the ancient Polish
nobility.
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? KRASICKI. 127
within him every quality to raise him to so high a
sphere. He possessed immense creative powers, an
original mind, and original ways of looking at things, --
qualities which in reality constitute a true poet. He
created a sphere to which he attracted the people
without any resistance on their part, -- so much so that
his poetry became a necessary element in their
existence.
The great archbishop stands on the borders of the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; but the creation
and preparation of a boundless poetical sphere, and
bringing a general use of his ideas into different
strata of society, make him a poet not only of his age,
but also of the present time.
Krasicki was born in 173tfc at Dubiecko, now in the
southern part of Eussia-Poland. After finishing his
studies at Lemberg he resided at Eome. Eeturning to
his country he became a canon, and then a curate at
Przemys? l. When hardly thirty years old he presided
over the Ecclesiastical Tribunal at Lublin, and it was
not long after that the king, Stanislaus Augustus, made
him coadjutor of the old bishop, Grochowski, and
when he died in 1767 Krasicki succeeded him as the
Bishop of Warmia, with the title of a prince. In 1772,
after the first partition of Poland, when Warmia, with
the western part of Prussia, came under the reign of
Prussia, Krasicki became a vassal to Frederick II, who
having a sort of penchant to surround himself with
learned men took him to his side and invited him to
reside in his palace of Sans-Souci. When, after the last
partition of Poland, a considerable part of the king-
dom of Poland came under the Prussian dominion,
Krasicki was made the archbishop of Gniezno, in 1795,
and occupied that high place till his death. In 1800
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? 128 POETS AKD POETRY OF POLAND.
he was made a member of the Society of the Friends
of Learning at Warsaw. He died in 1801.
All his works were published at Warsaw in 1803 and
1804, in ten volumes; in Paris, 1830, ten volumes in
one; in Leipsic, 1834. Besides his encyclopaedic col-
lection of the most important information, alphabet-
ically arranged, his comedies u The Liar," "The Poli-
tician, " and " Solenizant" (the solemnizerof his birth-
day) were published under a pseudonym of Michael
Mowin? ski.
THE WAR OF CHOCIM.
Canto I.
Long in the murderous rolls of conquering fame
The Osmanlis, -- scourge of God, -- in proud success,
Had triumph'd. Devastation, blood and flame
They scatter'd in their fury, merciless.
Unsated even by slaughter they became
Prouder in power, -- encouraged to oppress;
Half the wide world had recognized their sway,
And their stern scepter bade the rest obey.
Fall'n Greece! on thy majestic ruins, high
The haughty Moslem rears his tyrant throne;
How many desolated nations lie
In dust ! -- how many suffering kingdoms groan !
Towns, towers in ashes sink ; by his stern eye
Dismay'd, their terror trembling millions own,
Shuddering in dread, when with half-stifled breath
They see him wave the scimitar of death.
Before him fell the holy city's walls.
Thy daughters, Zion! wept in slavery long;
Whelm 'd in the dust thy palaces and halls.
No more Mount Calvary's sacred scenes among
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? KRASICKI. 129
Kneel pious pilgrims; -- drear desertion palls
The Savior's sacred tomb; an impious throng
Insulting trampled where to fallen man
Salvation's marvelous mystery began.
The valiant Osman then the throne possess'd, --
Osman, whose conquests like the ocean spread;
To daring deeds adventurously he press'd,
And joy'd his sire's ambitious path to tread.
His busy love of conquest found no rest,
But in devoting every Christian head.
Impious! to deem a tyrant's peevish rod
Could raze or blast what has been raised by God.
Such thoughts he cherishes; the powers of Hell
Fan his ambitious flame: before his eyes
They bid fresh wreaths of shadowy laurels dwell --
A filmy web; though victory's heedless cries
Ring in his ears like music, sorrow's swell
Seems joy, while in his soul stern thoughts arise.
'Twas thus deluded warrior bands became
A scourge to nations, -- to the world a shame.
So from the palace happy quiet flies, --
The seat of peace is in the shelter'd cot;
When cares disturb the mind, sleep shuns the eyes, --
Sleep, not the monarch's, but the peasant's lot:
Though on a couch of down proud Osman lies,
Repose his weary eye-lids visits not.
'Twas dawn, -- the star of morn palely shed
Her beams, when o'er him slumbers faintly spread.
The great Arch-fiend approach'd him, -- he of old
Hurl'd down from highest heaven, -- who bids abound
On earth both guilt and guile. A cloth of gold,
From distant India brought, encurtain'd 'round
9
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? 130 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
The tyrant's bed: -- in form of human mould
The daemon wrapp'd him; and with human sound,
While the false prophet's visible shape he took,
Thus to the deeply-slumbering monarch spoke :
"Nay! on a soft and an effeminate bed,
This is no fitting time, my son ! to taste
Oblivious sleep. Aurora blushing red
Heralds the morn; the pale stars sink to rest;
The sun uprises bright: -- Awake! and lead
Those conquering bands who wait thy high behest:
Awake! and let thy great example tell,
Sloth cannot in the minds of heroes dwell.
" Awake ! let them behold in thee whate'er
Befits a conquering nation's monarch ; scorn
Of sloth; delight the steely mail to wear;
A wakeful eye anticipating morn: --
Thine arm'd host waits thee, nought is wanting there
To valor, but a leader; fierce they burn
For the wild joy of battle: -- thus of yore
Their sires won fame; and lo! they pant for more.
" By glory led, whose brightly beaming light
Shines all propitious by the hero's side,
Each step is certain conquest; to the fight
A hero leading heroes; terror's tide
Shall whelm the Christians; and thy power shall blight
Each bud of hope for them; thy falchion dyed
With blood shall on the Faithful joy bestow, --
That sword which flashes death upon the foe. "
As when the savage boar outstretch'd in sleep,
In his dark covert hidden, hears the horn
Of the sharp hunter, and from slumbers deep
Awakes in bursting wrath, and rage, and scorn, --
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? KRASICKI. 131
Bristled and panting see the monster leap
Forth from his den; foaming and fury-torn
He dashes tow'rds the sounds, -- so Osman sprung,
While round his dreaming eyes the vision hung.
And fierce and fatal were the threats which call'd
His troops around him then; the battle cloud
Spread darkly gathering.
Armies were enthrall'd;
Viziers and Agas at the mandates loud,
And seldom-check'd Pachas, by fear appall'd,
Brought their attendant hordes, and meekly bow'd;
While scarce one welcoming, one approving glance
Escaped the frowning despot's countenance.
He stood among them like a pyramid
O'er-darkling with its shade the plain around,
And thus unveil'd his daring purpose, -- hid
Till then ; while at the valor-stirring sound,
Prostration mute, and eager rapture bid
Meet utterance : -- " Thou, the Koran's moat and mound,
Stretch out thy blade; thy foes shall pass away.
And prostrate earth adore the Prophet's sway.
11 Nobly thou hast begun, and so proceed !
Let thy sword herald on the law divine; --
Destroy the impugners of the Prophet's creed,
But on the faithful let thy favor shine.
Thy glory shall encircle earth ; the meed
Of pious triumphs, -- thou shalt raise a shrine
To victory. And as Rome was victory's queen,
Stamboul shall now become what Rome has been. "
Skinder Pacha was there, -- 'twas he who won
Cecora's bloody day, -- and thus he gave
His monarch humble counsel: " Thy proud throne
Towers above all thrones, and thus thy slave
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? 132 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Presumes t' advise. Since Poland's bravest son
Sleeps mouldering in his melancholy grave,
Be Poland thy first spoil: for Poland lies
Crouch 'd at thy feet, -- and at thy frown she dies.
" Z? o? ? kiewski was their chief: his fame in war
Was mighty: toils and time had made him gray:
His band look'd proudly on their country's star;
His countless band ; and in the glimmering ray
Of faded recollections twinkling far
Sought hope ! Thou gav'st them to us as a prey, --
Thou, Prophet! whom they dared blaspheme. They fell,
As ever falls the insulting infidel.
" And now dismay has crowded on defeat,
And terror holds them in its heavy chains;
Send forth thy mandate, and they shall retreat,
O'erpower'd and scatter'd, as across the plains
An atom in a whirlwind. It were meet
To whelm in dust their wasted, weak remains, --
Their wives, their children, slavery's bonds await, --
All yield to fate, -- and they must yield to fate.
" They have despised thee in their insolent pride ;
They have rebell'd against thy sovereign will ;
Laugh'd at thy awful frowns ; and turn'd aside
Prom thy bright smiles: and undespairing still,
Their obstinate zeal supports them. Chiefs divide,
And factions tear them; yet by force or skill
They hang together: and these stubborn foes
The only barrier to thy sway oppose. "
Thus the fierce Skinder spoke: their lord's behest
Anxious the whole divan awaited. He
The wild, rude anger of his eye suppress'd;
While bursting joy, dim dreams of victory,
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? KRASICKI. 133
And restless passions struggled in his breast.
He bow'd assent : and with proud dignity
Threw round him a dark glance of light afar.
And utter'd, " War, my warriors! nought but war! "
He said that he himself his troops would head,
And lead them on to triumph. At the word
A murmuring concert-tone of gladness spread,
And loud eulogiums on their valiant lord ;
For armies when by hero-monarchs led,
Know no defeat. A sultan's self-drawn sword
Flashes with victory. A chieftain brave
Makes all his followers spurn the gaping grave.
Then to the camp vast crowds of warriors throng,
From every quarter summon'd. Shouts of joy
And the gay music of the battle-song
Bid the heart leap, and light the ebon eye.
There young and old, children and sires, among
The gathering band are mix'd tumultuously;
And many an oath is heard, and many a vow
To Allah and the Prophet utter'd now.
And o'er the palace portal high unroll'd,
The Prophet's banner, deck'd with pearls and gems,
Floated. It was a sheet of broiderd gold,
Sparkling with jewels fit for diadems,
Which dazzle when their brightness we behold:
And the sublimest of all apothegms:
" There is no god but God, -- and Mahomet
His Prophet is. " on the bright field was set.
And proudly to the wind its folds it flung,
And million voices blended all around;
The clashing cymbals high aloft were flung.
The spahts shouts, and the strange babel-sound
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? 134 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
Of countless voices uttering joy, o'er-rung
All heaven ; the war-steeds stamp'd the dusty ground,
Eager for battle. Osman bent his head,
And to the crowds the white-lock'd Mufti said:
"Ye have been chosen, Faithful! from the crowd
Of nations, sacred duties, mighty deeds
Triumphant to accomplish. Victory loud
Calls to the noble strife where victory leads;
Heaven blesses Ismael's sons; their banner proud,
With glory seated on its shrine, proceeds;
The Prophet's standard blinds the Infidel,
And God's bright smiles of light around it dwell.
"Yes, Osman! glorious thy reward shall be!
Bright as the dreams that pla} r around thee now
Shall be the future's dazzling victory;
And high as night's proud stars thy fame shall glow
O'er thy ruin'd foes. At thy decree
Cecora's scatter'd fragments swift shall go
Into oblivion. Thou shalt reign alone,
And all the prostrate world thy mandates own. "
Then the mysterious Koran-tome he took,
And read its dark and deleterious page ;
Mingling new cheats with that all-cheating book,
He pours his blasphemies ; then strove to engage,
With a devout but most dissembling look,
Heaven's smiles upon the tyrant, -- to assuage
Heaven's frowns ; and on the chiefs, and on the crowd,
Saints*, Mulahs, and Imams, pour'd blessings loud.
Then to his palace he return'd, and soon
Warriors from every quarter join'd his train;
From whence Euphrates, lighted by the moon,
Bursts through his cliff-bound way; and from the plain
* Santons.
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? KRASICKI. 135
Where rolls the yellow Tigris 'neath the noon,
Rushing in rapid depths toward the main:
And from the jagged and the granite shores,
Where fierce Araxes through the hard rocks roars.
And whence the solemn Xilus rolls his tide,
Enriching at each step Egyptian lands,
To where in seven-mouth 'd eloquence of pride
He breaks impatient from his earthly bands
Into the Ocean's bridal bed. The wide
And scorch'd Sahara, and Xumidia's sands,
Sent forth their sons, and Ethiopia's eye
Look'd proudly on her troops of ebony.
From Yemen came a sturdy shepherd race,
Bronzed in the fierceness of the burning sun; --
The tribes of Fez, who deem it a disgrace
To spare or sympathize where gore-streams run;
From Mecca : from Medina -- hallow'd place !
Scene of the Prophet's birth: from Lebanon
And from Mount Carmel's sides: -- impatient all,
Panting for fame, and reckless though they fall.
But who can count them, -- who, -- when all array'd
They pass'd before the sultan's raptured eye?
He saw his million vassals who display'd
Their gorgeous pomp: and hope's light ecstasy.
Scepters and crowns and mighty kingdoms laid
At his proud feet by victory. To the sky
Tower'd his ambitious thoughts; his frowns he huiTd
And pour'd his threats of insult o'er the world.
HOW MUCH TO DRIXK.
You may drink of wine three times at a feast.
The first small glass won't hurt you in the least.
The second you drink to the health of friends,
And if you stop there, all pleasantly ends.
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? 136 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
But suppose you drink the third to the guest,
Be sure that at this point you will rest --
For the fourth begets a coarseness of speech,
Words rude and vulgar your converse will reach;
At the fifth your anger is uncontrolled,
Loudly you talk -- not knowing where to hold;
And if, after all these, a sixth succeed,
You are left in a wretched state indeed;
And one's perception need not be acute
To see you've reached the level of a brute !
DRUNKENNESS.
A SATIRE.
Where were you? T can hardly go. Are you sick? Yes,
You know I never humor myself to excess;
But such a headache as I've had words can't convey.
You must have surely had a gay time yesterday --
That's why you are sad to-day, how was it? I think,
After a luscious meal, water is good to drink.
Nay, not so good my friend, -- and may that man be cursed
(IT1 tell you how it was) who used that proverb first. .
Day before yesterday I got drunk -- wife's birthday;
I regret it not -- that occasion should be gay.
'Tis a great day you know -- nor is it very wrong
To raise your neighbor's spirits -- wife was full of song.
We had lots of wine, and its quality was prime,
So you can bet we drank and we had a big time.
Till morn the feast continued, about noon I woke --
Head like a chunk of lead -- to cough and spit and choke;
Madame proposed tea, but that's sickening, you know;
Somehow, 'twas but a chance, I passed a drug store. So
I took a drink of bitters, as anybody would,
Then I drank again, thinking it would do me good.
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? KRASICKI. 137
Still sick, again I drank, then I felt better quite,
And thus, then, happened two guests of yesternight;
Under such conditions a treat I could not shun --
And then how can one treat and yet himself drink none?
That wouldn't do. I drank, it happened, so you see,
The liquor was A No. 1, and hot as it could be.
That's good for the stomach, and as my good luck willed,
The nausea was stopped -- that dreadful headache stilled.
Well, again, to happy home with my friends I went,
We found dinner ready, and it was excellent.
Mr. Andrew said temperance was a thing he prized,
Aye, long live temperance! drunkenness we despised.
At hand stood the bottle, the cork beside it laid,
Mr. Albert of dyspepsia somewhat afraid,
After the ham eaten, proposed a little wine.
One or two glasses drank for the health is fine,
Especially when the wine is pure and past its youth.
We acceded all to such self-evident truth --
Talked of manly spirit, of bold and grand designs,
Talked of gold and silver, of digging in the mines.
And so the bottle dried up -- how? we scarcely knew,
And so another came -- and while our ardor grew,
Disappeared the third, the fourth, and then the fifth came on,
Then the sixth and seventh and eighth and the tenth was gone !
And when our arguments grew louder and more free,
Mr. Andrew dared to fling the name of fellow at me.
I, a fellow! I'll teach you not to be so bold --
At me he goes, and I at him, we took fierce hold.
Albert interposed, and the servants next appeared,
I really do not know how the quarrel cleared --
Certes it is a bottle was broken on my head,
Be drunkenness below to darkest regions sped!
What is there in it? There is trouble, strife and pain,
Nausea, bruises, plasters -- these are its only gain.
Well said: a pastime 'tis to which the lowest cling,
An upright man will scorn it as a shameless thing.
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? 138 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
All sorts of feuds and trouble from its reign outcome --
Mem'ry grows dull -- reasoning powers grow numb;
Health suffers, and its victim hastens to life's brink.
Just look upon a man who is a slave to drink!
A man but in appearance -- really a brute.
When a man is drunk 'tis fitting to compute
Him with senseless cattle -- justice, not abuse.
If heaven thought fit to place wine here for man's use,
It was to help him, not to incapacitate --
The use of God's great gifts should e'er be moderate.
Though dumb brutes are senseless we oft are shamed by them.
Intemperance is a sin' that animals condemn
In men who drink but not alone to slack their thirst.
Brutes drink what is needful -- man who calls them accurst
Is worse indeed than they are, more abject and low.
Heed not the wounds and piasters; the meed of guilt is -- woe!
Far greater punishment than those bruises is meet
For those that keep transgressing in their blind conceit.
Knowledge, which distinguishes man from animal,
They often disregard for causes small.
What gain is sufficient to balance its neglect;
For its loss what profits sufficient can collect.
In those who commit not excesses base and vain
You'll find good sense and comfort -- and freedom from all pain.
See the results that with temperance agree --
Perfect health, cloudless brain, and a mind gay and free;
Strength exceptional, and energy for their tasks;
Property in order, in smiles their household basks;
Cash to meet each needful and sensible expense, --
These are the inducements to follow temperance;
And aught but total abstinence is risky,
It is: Good-bye -- I go to take a drink of whisky.
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-06-10 17:13 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t04x6gz3d Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? KKASICKI. 139
FABLES.
THE KING.
A certain king there was of projects grand
Would register the wise ones of the land,
The names likewise of all the happy found,
And set the scribes to search the kingdom round.
The seeker for the happy found but few,
But great the multitude of wise ones grew,
So great the scribe beheld his labor vain,
No paper left the number to contain!
THE LAZY OXEN.
The first commission of an ill
Delight is no less;
'Tis. in the effect it brings about
That lies the bitterness.
As easily is proven by
This most veracious history.
In spring the oxen all refused
To plough the grassy plain ;
When autumn came they would not haul
From out the fields the grain.
In winter, being scarce of bread,
They knocked the oxen on the head.
THE MOSQUITO AND THE FLY.
If we must fly at all, I know
We should soar neither high nor low,
Mosquito said, who, buzzing by,
Saw in a pail a drowning fly.
And sadly he bemoaned its fate,
That it had not been fortunate,
And, like himself, had wings to fly
Where'er he willed, or low or high,
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-06-10 17:13 GMT / http://hdl. handle.