No record is left for us to ascertain who was the author of this first faint breath of Spanish poetry. Two writers flourished in the following age, in whom we trace the improvement and progress which the versification and language had now made. In the sacred poems of Don Gonzalo de Bercéo, and in the _Alexandro_ of Juan Lorenzo, are discovered more fluency, more connexion, and forms more determinate. The march of these authors, although difficult, is not so trailing and jejune as that of the preceding poet. The difference that subsists between the two later poets is, that Bercéo, if we except his narrative and some of his moral counsels, shows neither copiousness of erudition, variety of knowledge, nor fancy for invention; a deficiency arising from the nature of his subjects, which for the most part turn upon legends of the saints. Juan Lorenzo, on the contrary, is more rapt with his subject, and manifests an information so extensive in history, mythology, and moral philosophy, as to make his work the most important of all that were written in that age. The following verses on the same subject may serve to show the style of both. "I, hight Gonzalo de Bercéo, going On pilgrimage, came one day to a mead, Green, and well-peopled with fair plants, which blowing Made it a place desirable indeed To a tired traveller; the sweet-scented flowers Gave forth a smell that freshened not alone Men's faces, but their fancies, whilst in showers Clear flowing fountains to the sky were thrown, Each singing to itself as on it rolled, Warm in midwinter, and in summer cold." BERCÉO. "It was the month of May, a glorious tide, When merry music make the birds in boughs, Dressed are the meads with beauty far and wide, And sighs the ladye that has not a spouse: Tide sweet for marriages; flowers and fresh winds Temper the clime; in every village near Young girls in bevies sing, and with blythe minds Make each to each good-wishes of the year. Young maids and old maids, all are out of doors, Melting with love, to gather flowers at rest Of noon--they whisper each to each, amours Are good--and the most tender deem the best." LORENZO.