[188] _Cancion_, _Canzone_, _Chansos_, in the Romance language, signified originally any kind of poetry, because all poetry, or almost all, was then sung. (Giovanni Galvani, Poesia dei Trovatori, Modena, 1829, 8vo, p. 29.) In this way, _Cancionero_ in Spanish was long understood to mean simply a collection of poetry,--sometimes all by one author, sometimes by many. The first printed ballads, therefore, are to be sought in the earliest edition of the “Cancioneros Generales,” compiled by Fernando del Castillo, and printed at Valencia in 1511. Their number, including fragments and imitations, is thirty-seven, of which nineteen are by authors whose names are given, and who, like Don John Manuel of Portugal, Alonso de Cartagena, Juan de la Enzina, and Diego de San Pedro, are known to have flourished in the period between 1450 and 1500, or who, like Lope de Sosa, appear so often in the collections of that age, that they may be fairly assumed to have belonged to it. Of the remainder, several seem much more ancient, and are, therefore, more curious and important. The first, for instance, called “Count Claros,” is the fragment of an old ballad afterwards printed in full. It is inserted in this Cancionero on account of an elaborate gloss made on it in the Provençal manner by Francisco de Leon, as well as on account of an imitation of it by Lope de Sosa, and a gloss upon the imitation by Soria; all of which follow, and leave little doubt that the ballad itself had long been known and admired. The fragment, which alone is curious, consists of a dialogue between the Count Claros and his uncle, the Archbishop, on a subject and in a tone which made the name of the Count, as a true lover, pass almost into a proverb. “It grieves me, Count, it grieves my heart, That thus they urge thy fate; Since this fond guilt upon thy part Was still no crime of state. For all the errors love can bring Deserve not mortal pain; And I have knelt before the king, To free thee from thy chain. But he, the king, with angry pride Would hear no word I spoke; ‘The sentence is pronounced,’ he cried; ‘Who may its power revoke?’ The Infanta’s love you won, he says, When you her guardian were. O cousin, less, if you were wise, For ladies you would care. For he that labors most for them Your fate will always prove; Since death or ruin none escape, Who trust their dangerous love.” “O uncle, uncle, words like these A true heart never hears; For I would rather die to please Than live and not be theirs.”[189]