Sonnet LIII
SONNET LIII.
Ben sapev' io che natural consiglio.
FLEEING FROM LOVE, HE FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF HIS MINISTERS.
Full well I know that natural wisdom nought,Love, 'gainst thy power, in any age prevail'd,For snares oft set, fond oaths that ever fail'd,Sore proofs of thy sharp talons long had taught;But lately, and in me it wonder wrought—With care this new experience be detail'd—'Tween Tuscany and Elba as I sail'dOn the salt sea, it first my notice caught.I fled from thy broad hands, and, by the way,An unknown wanderer, 'neath the violenceOf winds, and waves, and skies, I helpless lay,When, lo! thy ministers, I knew not whence,Who quickly made me by fresh stings to feelIll who resists his fate, or would conceal.