Certainly she is a brasier at which one may warm one's soul.
"En Route"
J.-K. (Joris-Karl) Huysmans
Here, the fire outlines a sort of chessboard in red squares, there it has a sheen like velvet; little blue flames start up and flicker and play about in the glowing depths of the brasier.
"The Magic Skin"
Honore de Balzac
A brasier is not suffer'd to dwell in the parish, nor an armourer.
"Epicoene Or, The Silent Woman"
Ben Jonson