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Updated: May 13, 2025
"A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift;" so ethereal, so bird-like, that it is no wonder that the horse about whom those old story-tellers lied so stoutly, telling of his running a mile in a minute, was called Flying Childers. The roses in Mrs. Pfeiffer's garden were hardly out of flower when I lunched with her at her pretty villa at Putney. There I met Mr. Browning, Mr. Holman Hunt, Mrs.
He is a frail form; a phantom among men; companionless; one who had gazed Actaeon-like on Nature's naked loveliness, and who now fled with feeble steps, hounded by his own thoughts; a pard-like spirit beautiful and swift; a love masked in desolation; a power begirt with weakness, scarcely capable of lifting the weight of the hour; a breaking billow, which may even now be broken; the last of the company, neglected and apart a herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter's dart; in Keats's fate, he wept his own; his brow was branded and ensanguined.
"A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift;" so ethereal, so bird-like, that it is no wonder that the horse about whom those old story-tellers lied so stoutly, telling of his running a mile in a minute, was called Flying Childers. The roses in Mrs. Pfeiffer's garden were hardly out of flower when I lunched with her at her pretty villa at Putney. There I met Mr. Browning, Mr. Holman Hunt, Mrs.
Had he waited till the day of his maturity, 'the monsters of life's waste' would have fled from him, as the wolves, ravens, and vultures had fled from, and fawned upon, 'the Pythian of the age. Then came the Mountain Shepherds, bewailing Adonais: the Pilgrim of Eternity, the Lyrist of lerne, and among others, one frail form, a pard-like spirit.
Zelma was large, but lithe, supple, and vigorous, with a pard-like freedom and elasticity of movement, dark, with a subdued and changing color, the fluttering signal of sudden emotion, not the stationary sign of robust health.
Enchanted child, born into a world unchildlike; spoiled darling of Nature, playmate of her elemental daughters; "pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift," laired amidst the burning fastnesses of his own fervid mind; bold foot along the verges of precipitous dream; light leaper from crag to crag of inaccessible fancies; towering Genius, whose soul rose like a ladder between heaven and earth with the angels of song ascending and descending it; he is shrunken into the little vessel of death, and sealed with the unshatterable seal of doom, and cast down deep below the rolling tides of Time.
A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift A love in desolation masked a Power Girt round with weakness; it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; Is it a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow; even whilst we speak Is it not broken? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break.
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