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Both Falcon and I had reckoned that our day's work was done when we climbed the last hill, so it was in some discontent that we set our faces once more against the black road, and the stinging sleet, and the bitter north wind. Amongst Mrs. Browning's earlier poems, there is one to my mind almost peerless for sweet sonority of verse-music, and simplicity of strength.
"Louise, it is not for your peerless beauty I love you, nor for your gifted mind, your noble feeling, the wondrous charm of all you say and do, nor yet for your pride, your queenly scorn of baser mortals a pride blent in you with charity, for what angel could be more tender?
Yet she had pained him; had in part caused his exile from the home of his youth, and added another sorrow to those which now veiled that peerless face in gloom. He had placed his happiness in her hands; had asked her to be his wife. She looked at the portrait, and shuddered and moaned.
A blameless character, pure desire, manly ambition, a fervent faith, and a strong will, resting on the firm innermost foundation of a Christian spirit, are as real to him in the fisherman as in the peerless prince.
There are phrases in Louis Moore's diary that bring Emily Brontë straight before us in her swift and vivid life. Shirley is "Sister of the spotted, bright, quick-fiery leopard." "Pantheress! beautiful forest-born! wily, tameless, peerless nature! She gnaws her chain. I see the white teeth working at the steel! She has dreams of her wild woods, and pinings after virgin freedom."
Recant your heresy, and believe for the future. "Angel, No. 2. I told you there were more than one has hazel eyes, pink cheeks, auburn curls, and the dearest little ways. She is not beautiful she is not stately she does not play and sing the soul out of your body, and yet and yet . Lauderdale, you always told me my peerless fiancée was a thousand times too good for me. I never believed you before.
It was raining when he wrote and he felt depressed, but he sent his love in the form of a charming bit of verse wherein a tear was borne with the flowing water to testify to his tender regard for his "peerless sister." This letter, too personal for publication, his sister lately read to me, and it was a revelation of the matchless style so early acquired.
And Mme. de St. Cyr seemed to regard Delphine, still further, as a cool matter of Art. These little confidences, moreover, are provoking. They put you yourself so entirely out of the question. "Mlle. de St. Cyr's beauty is peerless," I said, slightly chagrined, and at a loss. "If hearts were trumps, instead of diamonds!" "We are poor," resumed Madame, pathetically. "Delphine is not an heiress.
Each heart was on flame for the peerless dame At the price of the husband's life; Bright claymores flash out, and loud voices shout, "In thy widow shall be my wife." Then darkness fell over the palace hall, More dark and more dark it fell, And a death-groan boomed hoarse underneath the pall, And was drowned amid roar and yell.
A quiet scene of rural beauty it was, and so thought the maiden, as, rousing from her reverie, she gazed on garden, fields, and distant woods, but more lovingly and lingeringly dwelt her glance on a lake that lay embosomed between the meadow and the grove, partly skirted by trees that grew even to its edge, and partly by the rich grass, whose vivid color betrayed the influence of those placid waters, that now reflected every glowing tint, and every delicate hue of the peerless sunset sky.
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