A quarrel happening some time after between Francis Sforza, duke of Milan, and Alphonsus, king of Naples; Brunoro quitted the service of the king his master, and went over to the duke of Milan’s party: Bonna, his faithful mistress accompanied him, and signalized herself in the first campaign. The difference between the contending parties being accommodated by the interposition of mediators, Brunoro was received again into the service of Alphonsus, and Bonna was presented to the king as a young Amazon: her talents for war and politics became every day more and more conspicuous; and upon a rupture between the Venetian republic and the duke of Milan, she had the address to negociate at Venice, the command of the Venetian army, with an appointment of 20000 ducates per annum during the war for Brunoro. The general’s heart, at this striking piece of felial affection in his mistress, was now touched with a lively sense of honour for Bonna, he regretted he had ever took advantage of the assenting and unguarded Shepherdess, and, to repair past injuries, and in gratitude for such signal services, married his benefactress: After this event, she placed no bounds either to her conjugal affection, or her love of arms. She accompanied her husband wherever he went: and while the general was engaged upon some other service, she headed a detachment, and took the Castle of Pavanou, near Brescia, from the Milanese, by assault.
The senate of Venice honoured her with distinguished rewards, and placing an unlimited confidence in both husband and wife, sent them to the succour of Negropontus, attacked by the Turks. They defended this island so ably, that during the time that they commanded, the Turks desisted from all further attempts on the place. Bonna died on her return to Venice at a small town of Morea, leaving behind her two children, and an immortal reputation.
Background: This piece is somewhat historical. Bona Lombarda or Lombardi married Pietro Brunoro 1417-1468; she died in Modone.
THE FLOWER-GIRL.
—“Pray, buy a nosegay of a poor orphan!” said a female voice, in a plaintive and melodious tone, as I was passing the corner of the Hay-market. I turned hastily, and beheld a girl of about fourteen; whose drapery, tho’ ragged, was clean, and whose form was such as a painter might have chosen for a youthful Venus. Her neck, without covering, was white as snow; and her features, though not regularly beautiful, were interesting, and set off by a transparent complexion: her eyes, dark and intelligent, were shaded by loose ringlets of a raven black, and poured their sweetly supplicating beams through the silken shade of very long lashes. On one arm hung a basket full of roses, and the other was stretched out towards me with one of the rose-buds. I put my hand into my pocket, and drew out some silver---“Take this, my pretty girl,” said I, putting it into her’s; “and may that God, who is the Father of the fatherless, be the preserver of your existence and your virtue!---Virtuous poverty is no crime.”
I was turning from her, when she suddenly caught my withdrawn hand; and, putting it to her lips, burst into a flood of tears. The action, and the look which accompanied it, touched my soul; it melted to the artless gratitude of this poor Flower-girl, and a drop of sympathy fell from my cheek. “Forgive me, Sir,” said she, recovering from her transport, while a sweet blush diffused itself over her lovely face: “my heart was full of what it could not express---nature impelled me to so free an action. You will pardon the effect it had on me, when I tell you, they were the first kind words I have heard since I lost all that was dear to me on earth——” A sob interrupted her discourse: she stopped, and wept silently; then, raising up her face from the hand on which she had laid it---“O Sir! I have no father! no mother! no relation! Alas! I have no friend in the world!” Choked with her emotions, she was silent for a moment before she could proceed---“My only friend is God! on him I rely; I submit to his will. I only pray that I may support with fortitude, the miseries I am born to experience! To him, kind Sir, this heart shall always pray for you. May that God for ever protect you!” added she, dropping a curtsey full of humility and native grace, as she retired. I returned her benediction, and went on——
“And can I thus leave this poor creature?” said I, as I walked pensively on. “Can I leave her forever, without emotion? What have I done for her, that can entitle me to her prayers? Preserved her a few days from death, but that is all! And shall I quit thee, fair flower, to see thee no more? to be blown down by the rude blast of adversity! to be cropped by some cruel spoiler! to droop thy lovely head beneath the blight of early sorrow!—No! thou hast been reared on some happier bank; thou hast been nurtured by the sweet tears of maternal affection; thou hast once blushed beneath the chearing sun of domestick content, and under it thou shalt bloom again!” I turned, as I spoke: my heart beat with its sweet purpose. I saw the beautiful Flower-girl before me. I approached---caught her hand---the words of triumphant virtue burst from my lips---
“Come, thou lovely, deserted girl! come, and add one more to the happy groupe who call me father! Their home shall be thine: thou shalt share their comforts: thou shalt be taught with them that virtue their father tries to practise!” She stopped me; her eyes flashed with a frantic joy: she flung herself on her knees before me, and burst into a flood of rapturous tears. I raised her in my arms---I hushed her eloquent gratitude, and led her to a home of happiness and piety. She loves my children; she loves their father; and the poor orphan of the Hay-market is now the wife of my son!