And counsel the unfortunate. But I
Foreknew my fate, and if I erred, I erred
With conscious purpose, purchasing man’s weal
With mine own grief. I knew I should offend
The Thunderer, though deeming not that he
Would perch me thus to pine ’twixt Earth and Sky,
Of this wild wintry waste sole habitant.
But cease to weep for ills that weeping mends not;
Descend, and I’ll discourse to thee at length
Of chances yet to come. Nay, do not doubt;