The rival poet's grand verses and supernatural aid did not silence the speaker; only the beloved's presence in the rival's poetry drains the speaker of words.
Scholars debate whether the rival poet's supernatural aid refers to actual occult practice or poetic hyperbole. The sonnet lists possibilities—demonic instruction, a familiar spirit—then dismisses them all. What matters isn't the rival's technique or mystical advantage but the beloved's presence in the rival's poetry. The speaker's silence stems not from inferiority but from the displacement of desire: the beloved, once his subject, is now channeled through another's art.
The volta reveals an erotic-aesthetic crisis. When the beloved appears in the rival's verse, they become contaminated by that poet's voice, unavailable to the speaker's articulation. This isn't mere jealousy; it's the collapse of artistic subject matter into another's possession. The speaker loses both the beloved and the capacity to write about them. Beauty claimed by another becomes inaccessible to desire and representation simultaneously.
You feel inspired until you see the person you love featured in someone else's creative work—their Instagram story, their art film, their song. Seeing them filtered through that rival's lens suddenly empties you of your own artistic voice.