The misfortunes of Melendez were certainly much to be lamented, but throughout them he could unquestionably console himself with the conviction of having been actuated ever by upright motives, and of leaving to his country an imperishable name. His literary career had been an eminently successful one, and he had felt the full enjoyment of fame. In the prologue, above mentioned, he refers very feelingly to the reverses to which he had been subjected, but also with apparent satisfaction to the various editions and notices of his works, published both in Spain and abroad. In leaving revised his works, published afterwards by the government, Madrid 1820, Melendez left also this positive direction: “Although I have composed many other poems, these appear to me the least imperfect, and I therefore forbid the others to be reprinted under any pretext. I earnestly request this of the editor, and expect it of his probity and good feeling, that he will fulfil this, my will, in every respect.” In accordance with this request, many of his earlier works have been, with much propriety, omitted, and the remainder have been considerably corrected; at the same time that a great number of poems are added, that had not been previously published. The best edition of his works is that by Salva, Paris 1832. Melendez enjoyed in his day a higher reputation than readers at present are willing to concede him, comparing him with the other poets that have since appeared in Spain. But the merits of writers should be considered, in justice, relatively only to those who have preceded them, and by this standard he is certainly fully entitled to the eulogiums which his contemporaries awarded him. MELENDEZ VALDES. JUVENILITIES. When I was yet a child, A child Dorila too, To gather there the flowerets wild, We roved the forest through. And gaily garlands then, With passing skill display’d, To crown us both, in childish vein, Her little fingers made. And thus our joys to share, In such our thoughts and play, We pass’d along, a happy pair, The hours and days away. But ev’n in sports like these, Soon age came hurrying by! And of our innocence the ease Malicious seem’d to fly. I knew not how it was, To see me she would smile; And but to speak to her would cause Me pleasure strange the while. Then beat my heart the more, When flowers to her I brought; And she, to wreathe them as before, Seem’d silent, lost in thought. One evening after this We saw two turtle-doves, With trembling throat, who, wrapt in bliss, Were wooing in their loves. In manifest delight, With wings and feathers bow’d, Their eyes fix’d on each other bright, They languish’d, moaning loud. The example made us bold, And with a pure caress, The troubles we had felt we told, Our pains and happiness.