An edition of Boscan's poems, together with those of his friend Garcilaso, was published at Barcelona in 1543. The collection is divided into four books, three of which are devoted to the productions of the elder poet. The first consists of his early efforts in the old style, songs and ballads--'Canciones y Coplas.' The second and third books contain ninety-three sonnets and _canzones_; a long poem on Hero and Leander in blank verse; an elegy and two didactic epistles in terza rima, and a half-narrative, half-allegorical poem in one hundred and thirty-five octavo stanzas. The sonnets and _canzones_ are obvious imitations of Petrarch; yet at the same time they are stamped with a spirit essentially Spanish, and occasionally evince a deep passion and melody of their own, although they may lack the subtle fascination of their exquisite models. The 'Allegory,' with its cleverly contrasted courts of Love and Jealousy, suggests the airy, graceful humor of Ariosto, and is perhaps the most agreeable and original of all Boscan's works. The 'Epistle to Mendoza' is conceived in the manner of Horace, and amidst a fund of genial philosophic comment, contains a charming picture of the poet's domestic happiness. He also left a number of translations from the classics. While in no sense a great poet, Boscan united simplicity, dignity, and classical taste in a remarkable degree; and, inclined as he seemed to entirely banish the ancient form of verse, he yet beyond question introduced a kind of poetry which was developed to a high degree of perfection in the Castilian tongue, and which may be studied with keen delight at this day in some of the noblest poetical monuments of Spanish literature. The best modern edition of Boscan's works is published under the title of 'Las Obras de Juan Boscan' (Madrid, 1875). ON THE DEATH OF GARCILASO Tell me, dear Garcilaso,--thou Who ever aim'dst at Good, And in the spirit of thy vow, So swift her course pursued That thy few steps sufficed to place The angel in thy loved embrace, Won instant, soon as wooed,-- Why took'st thou not, when winged to flee From this dark world, Boscan with thee? Why, when ascending to the star Where now thou sitt'st enshrined, Left'st thou thy weeping friend afar, Alas! so far behind? Oh, I do think, had it remained With thee to alter aught ordained By the Eternal Mind, Thou wouldst not on this desert spot Have left thy other self forgot! For if through life thy love was such As still to take a pride In having me so oft and much Close to thy envied side,-- I cannot doubt, I must believe, Thou wouldst at least have taken leave Of me; or, if denied, Have come back afterwards, unblest Till I too shared thy heavenly rest. Translation of Wipfen. _DOMESTIC HAPPINESS_. Photogravure from a Painting by Eugen Klimsch. [Illustration]