
critic
and poet
.
He was born at Great Yarmouth
, the eldest son of Sir Francis Palgrave
, the historian
and his wife Elizabeth Turner, daughter of the banker Dawson Turner
. His brothers were William Gifford Palgrave
, Inglis Palgrave
and Reginald Palgrave
. His childhood was spent at Yarmouth and at his father's house in Hampstead
. At fourteen he was sent as a day-boy to Charterhouse
; and in 1843, having in the meanwhile travelled extensively in Italy and other parts of the continent, he won a scholarship at Balliol College, Oxford
.
When once the mind has raised itself to grasp and to delight in excellence, those who love most will be found to love most wisely.
The azure lake is argent now Beneath the pale moonshine: I seek a sign of hope in heaven: Fair Polestar! thou are mine. A thousand other beacons blaze; I follow thee alone...
In the season of white wild roses We two went hand in hand: But now in the ruddy autumn Together already we stand.
Time's corrosive dewdrop eats The giant warrior to a crust Of earth in earth and rust in rust.
Let the children play And sit like flowers upon thy grave And crown with flowers,—that hardly have A briefer blooming-tide than they.
Sleep puts out silent fingers, And leads me back to the roar Of the dead salt sea that vomits Wrecks of the past ashore.
I see the lost Love in beauty Go gliding over the main: I feel the ancient sweetness, The worm and the wormwood again.
Earth all one tomb lies round me, Domed with an iron sky: And God Himself in His power, God cannot save me! I cry.
With the cry I wake;—and around me The mother and child at her feet Breathe peace in even whispers; And the night falls heavy and sweet.
In the hollow Silver voices ripple and cry Follow, O follow!