THE REVOLT OF ISLAM
A. J. Arberry

Whether or not it may be agreed that ‘poets are the unofficial legislators of mankind’, there is no gainsaying the fact that poets have played a prominent, in some instances indeed a leading part in that most exciting drama of modem times, the revolt of Islam against internal corruption, and especially and most compellingly against external domination.

Of the hireling’s blood outpoured
Lustrous rubies makes the lord;
Tyrant squire to swell. his wealth
Desolates the peasant’s tilth.
Revolt, I cry!
Revolt, defy!
Revolt, or die!
City sheikh with string of beads
Many a faithful heart misleads,
Brahman baffles with his thread
Many a simple Hindu head.
Revolt, I cry!
Revolt, defy!
Revolt, or die!
Prince and Sultan gambling go;
Loaded are the dice they throw
Subjects soul from body strip
While their subjects are asleep.
Revolt, I cry!
Revolt, defy!
Revolt, or die!
Brother Muslims, woe to us
For the havoc science does!
Ahriman is cheap enough,
God is rare, scarce-offered stuff.
Revolt, I cry!
Revolt, defy!
Revolt, or die!

(From Zabūr i ‘Ajam)[1]

The passionate shout of inqilāb ay inqilāb was raised by the man who was after his death to be hailed as the prophet of Pakistan. Sir Muhammad Iqbal, distinguished lawyer, distinguished philosopher, distinguished poet, as learned in Western science as in Eastern tradition, inspired millions of his fellow-Muslims in India to fight for self-reform, and self-realization as a necessary prelude to freedom and independent nationhood.

Little flower fast asleep,
Rise narcissus-like, and peep;
Lo, the bower droops and dies
Wasted by cold griefs; arise!
Now that birdsong fills the air
And muezzins call to prayer,
Listen to the burning sighs
Of the passionate hearts, and rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Now the sun, that doth adorn
With his rays the brow of morn,
Doth suffuse the cheeks thereof
With the crimson blush of love,
Over mountain, over plain
Caravans take route again;
Bright and world-beholding eyes,
Gaze upon the world, and rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
All the Orient doth lie
Like strewn dust the roadway by,
Or a still and hushed lament
And a wasted sigh and spent.
Yet each atom of this earth
Is a gaze of tortured birth:
Under Ind’s and Persia’s skies,
Through Arabia’s plains, O rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
See, thy ocean is at rest,
Slumbrous as a desert waste;
Yea, no waxing or increase
E’er disturbs thy ocean’s peace.
Ne’er thy ocean knoweth storm
Or Leviathan’s dread swarm:
Rend its breast and, billow-wise
Swelling into tumult, rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Listen to this subtlety
That reveals all mystery:
Empire is the body’s dust,
Spirit true Religion’s trust;
Body lives and spirit lives
By the life their union gives.
Lance in hand, and sword at thighs,
Cloaked, and with thy prayer mat, rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Thou art true and worshipful
Guardian of eternal Rule,
Thou the left hand and the right
Of the World-possessor’s might,
Shackled slave of earthy race,
Thou art Time, and thou art Space:
Wine of faith that fear defies
Drink, and from doubt’s prison rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Against Europe I protest
And the attraction of the West:
Woe for Europe and her charm,
Swift to capture and disarm!
Europe’s hordes with flame and fire
Desolate the world entire;
Architect of Sanctuaries,
Earth awaits rebuilding; rise!
Out of leaden sleep,
Out of slumber deep
Arise!
Out of slumber deep
Arise!

(From Zabūr i ‘Ajam)[2]

Sir Muhammad Iqbal died in 1938, ten years before the realization of the first part of his visionary programme, the establishment of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. We say the first part, because his whole dream was of a world united in glad acceptance of the challenge of Islam, the challenge to man and men to make themselves sharers with God in the creation of a perfect and perfectly self-realizing Universe.

Brighter shall shine men’s clay
Than angels’ light, one day;
Earth through our Destiny
Turn to a starry sky.
The fancies in our head
That upon storms were fed
One day shall soar, and clear
The whirlpool of the sphere.
Why askest thou of me?
Consider Man, and see
How, Mind-developed still,
Sublime this subject will
Come fashioned forth, sublime,
This common thought, in time,
And with its beauty’s rapture
Even God’s heart shall capture.

(From Zabūr i ‘Ajam.)[3]

Thou, who hast made with the Invisible
Thy covenant, and burst forth like a flood
From the shore’s bondage, as a sapling rise
Out of this garden’s soil; attach thy heart
To the Unseen, yet ever with the seen
Wage conflict, since this being visible
Interprets that unviewed, and prelude is
To the o’ermastery of hidden powers.
All otherness is only to subdue,
Its breast a target for the well-winged shaft;
God’s fiat Be! made other manifest
So that thy arrows might be sharp to pierce
The steely anvil. Truly it requires
A tightly knotted cord, to whet and prove
The wit of the resolver. Art thou a bud?
Interpret in thyself the flowery mead;
Art thou a dewdrop? Dominate the sun!
If thou art equal to the bold emprise,
Melt thou this sun-lion with one torrid breath!
Whoever hath subdued the things perceived
Can of one atom reconstruct a world,
And he whose shaft would pierce the angel’s breast
First fastens Adam to his saddle-bow;
He first resolves the knot phenomena
And, mastering Being, proves his lofty powers.
Mountain and wilderness, river and plain,
All land and sea—these are the scholar’s slate
On which the man of vision learns to read.
O thou who slumberest, by dull opiates drugged,
And namest mean this world material,
Rise up, and open thy besotted eyes!
Call thou not mean thy world by Law compelled;
Its purpose is to enlarge the Muslim’s soul,
To challenge his potentialities;
The body it assaults with fortune’s sword
That thou mayest see if there be blood within;
Dash thou thy breast against its jagged rock
Until it pierce thy flesh, and prove thy bone.
God counts this world the portion of good men,
Commits its splendour to believers’ eyes;
It is a road the caravan must pass,
A touchstone the believer’s gold to assay;
Seize thou this world, that it may not seize thee,
And in its pitcher swallow thee like wine.
The stallion of thy thought is parrot-swift,
Striding the whole wide heavens in g. bound;
Urged ever onwards by the needs of life,
Raised up to rove the skies, though earthbound still;
That, having won the mastery of the powers
Of this world-order, thou mayest consummate
The perfecting of thy ingenious crafts
Man is the deputy of God on earth,
And o’er the elements his rule is fixed;
On earth thy narrowness receiveth breadth
Thy toil takes on fair shape. Ride thou the wind;
Put bridle on that swift-paced dromedary.
Dabble thy fingers in the mountain’s blood;
Draw up the lustrous waters of the pearl
From ocean’s bottom; in this single field
A hundred worlds are hidden, countless suns
Veiled in these dancing motes. This glittering ray
Shall bring to vision the invisible,
Disclose uncomprehended mysteries.
Take splendour from the world-inflaming sun,
The arch-illuming levin from the storm;
All stars and planets dwelling in the sky,
Those lords to whom the ancient peoples prayed,
All those, my master, wait upon thy word
And are obedient servants to thy will
In prudence plan the quest, to make it sure,
Then master every spirit, all the world.

(From The Mysteries of Selflessness.)

Notes and References