Smiles soon abate; the boisterous throes
Of anger long burst forth;
Inconstantly the south-wind blows,
But steadily the north.
Thy star, O Venus! often changes
Its radiant seat above,
The chilling pole-star never ranges --
'Tis thus with Hate and Love.
2.3k
Smiles soon abate; the boisterous throes
Of anger long burst forth;
Inconstantly the south-wind blows,
But steadily the north.
Thy star, O Venus! often changes
Its radiant seat above,
The chilling pole-star never ranges --
'Tis thus with Hate and Love.