POETS

Arabic shāʿir ( شاعر‎ ), pl. shuʿarāʾ . Poetry, shiʿr ( شعر‎ ). Muḥammad repudiated the idea of being a poet. See Qurʾān. Sūrah xxxvi. 69 : “We have not taught him poetry, nor was it proper for him; it is but a reminder and a plain Qurʾān.” Sūrah lxix. 40, 41 : “Verily it is the speech of a noble apostle; and it is not the speech of a poet.” The Qurʾān being in manifest rhythm, and in some places actual poetry, the declaration of the Prophet, that he was not a poet has much perplexed the commentators . But the Imām Fak͟hru ʾd Dīn ar-Rāzī, has hit upon the following clever explanation of the difficulty. He says, that in order to be a poet it is absolutely nece ary that the poems should not be impromptu verses, but deliberately framed, and that, therefore, although the Qurʾān contains poetry (for example, in Sūrah xciv ., which begins thus:— الم نشرح لك صدرك‎ و وضعنا عنك وزرك‎ Alam nashraḥ laka ṣadraka Wa waẓaʿnā ʿanka wizraka . “Have we not opened thy breast for thee? And taken off from thee thy burden?”) it is not really poetry, because the writer did not deliberately intend to produce the rhythm! The same excuse is urged for the lines which Muḥammad is related to have uttered impromptu when his toe was wounded in battle:— هل انت الا اصبع دميت‎ و فى سبيل الله ما لقيت‎ Hal anti illā iṣbaʿun damīti? Wa fī sabīli ʾllāhi mā laqīti . “Art thou anything but a toe covered with blood? “What has happened to thee has been in the road of God.” Arabic scholars (see Kashfu Īṣt̤ilāḥāti ʾl-Funūn , in loco ) divide the Arabic poets into six periods:— (1) Al-Jāhilīyūn , those in the time of ignorance , or before Islām, such as the ancient Arabic poets Zuhair, T̤arafah, Imru ʾl-Qais, ʿAmr ibn Kuls̤ūm, al-Ḥāris̤, and ʿAntarah. (2) Al-Muk͟hzaramūn ( lit . “spurious”), those born in the time of ignorance, but who embraced Islām, as Labīd and Ḥa ān, whose names occur in the traditions. (3) Al-Mutaqaddimūn ( lit . “first”), those who were born in the time of Islām, of parents who were converts to Islām, as Jarīr and Farazdaq. (4) Al-Muwalladūn , those who were born of true-born Muslims, as Bashār. (5) Al-Muḥdis̤ūn , the third generation of Muslim poets, as Abū Tammām, and Buk͟htari. (6) Al-Mutaʾak͟hk͟hirūn ( lit . “the last”), all succeeding poets. The Mutaqadimūn , the Muwalladūn , and the Muḥdis̤ūn , correspond with the Aṣhāb , the Tābiʿūn , and the Tābiʿ Tābiʿūn , or the three first generations of Muslims. There are seven poems of ancient Arabia, who are known in history as the Muʿallaqāt , or “suspended,” because they had been in turn suspended on the walls of the Makkan temple. They are also known as Muẕahhabāt , or the “golden” poems, because they were written in gold. The names of their authors are Zuhair, T̤arafah, Imru ʾl-Qais, ʿAmru ibn Kuls̤ūm, al-Ḥāris̤ , ʿAntarah, and Labīd. The last of the seven embraced Islām. It is related that Labīd had posted up in the Kaʿbah his poem, beginning:— الا كل شىء ما خلا الله باطل‎ Alā kulla shaʾin mā k͟halā ʾllāha bāt̤ilu . “Know that everything is vanity but God.” But that when he saw the first verses of the Sūratu ʾl-Baqarah (ii.) of the Qurʾān posted up, he withdrew his verses and embraced Islām. Muḥammad repaid Labīd with the compliment that the words, “Know that everything is vanity but God,” were the truest words ever uttered by a poet. ( Mishkāt , book xxii. ch. x.) In the earlier part of his mi ion, Muḥammad affected to despise the poets, and in the Qurʾān we find him saying ( Sūrah xxvi. 224 ), “Those who go astray follow the poets”; and in the Traditions, Mishkāt , book xxii . ch. x.: “A belly full of purulent matter is better than a belly full of poetry.” But when Labīd and Ḥa ān embraced Islām, the poets rise into favour, and the Prophet utters the wise but cautious saying, that “poetry is a kind of composition, which if it is good it is good, and if it is bad it is bad.” In the battle with the Banū Quraiz̤ah, the Prophet called out to Ḥa ān the poet, “Abuse the infidels in your verse, for truly the Holy Spirit (in the Ḥadīs̤ it is Gabriel) will help you.” It is also related that the Prophet used to say, “O Lord! help Ḥa ān the poet by the Holy Spirit (or Gabriel).” It is generally admitted by Arabic scholars that the golden age of Arabic poetry was that immediately preceding or contemporaneous with Muḥammad, and that from the time of Muḥammad there was a gradual decline. This is not surprising, inasmuch as the Qurʾān is considered the most perfect model of composition ever revealed to mankind, and to be written in the language of Paradise. Baron Mac Guck in de Slane, in his Introduction to Ibn K͟hallikān’s Dictionary, says:— “The oldest monuments of Arabic literature which we still po e were composed within the century which preceded the birth of Muḥammad. They consist in short pieces of verse uttered on the spur of the moment, narrations of combats between hostile tribes, pa ages in rhythmical prose and kasîdas ( qaṣīdahs ), or elegies. The study of these remains reveals the existence of a language perfect in its form and application, admirably suited to expre the various ideas which the aspect of nature could suggest to a pastoral people, and as equally adapted to portray the fiercer pa ions of the mind. The variety of its inflections, the regularity of its syntax, and the harmony of its prosody, are not le striking, and they furnish in themselves a sufficient proof of the high degree of culture which the language of the Arabic nation had already attained. The superior merit of this early literature was ever afterwards acknowledged by the Arabs themselves. It furnished them not only with models, but ideas for their poetical productions, and its influence has always continued perceptible in the Kasîda, which still contains the same thoughts, the same allusions as of old, and drags its slow length along in monotonous dignity.… (p. xv.) “The decline of Arabic poetry can be easily traced down from the acce ion of the Abba sides to the time of the Aiyubites: for many centuries the patrons of the belles-lettres were of foreign extraction, and writers who sought their favour were obliged to conform their own judgment to that of persons who were in general unable to appreciate the true beauties of literary compositions. Works which had obtained the patronage of the prince could not fail to fix the attention of other poets, who took them as models which they strove to imitate and to surpa . The opinion held in the schools that the ancient kasîdas were masterpieces of art, contributed also to the perversion of good taste, their plan and ideas were servilely copied, and it was by refinement of expre ion alone that writers could display their talent; verbal quibbles, far-fetched allusions, thoughts borrowed from the old writers, and strained so as to be hardly recognisable, such were the means by which they strove to attain originality; sense was sacrificed to sound, the most discordant ideas were linked together for the futile advantage of obtaining a recurrence of words having a similar written form or a similar pronunciation; poets wrote for the ear and the eye, not for the mind, and yet the high estimation in which their productions were held may be judged from the readine of Ibn Khallikân to quote them. His taste was that of the age in which he lived, and the extracts which he gives enable the reader to form an idea of the Arab mind at the period of the Crusades. The same feeling of impartiality which induces me to expre so severe a censure on the generality of the Islamic poets, obliges me also to make some exceptions. The kasîdas of al-Mutanabbi are full of fire, daring originality, and depth of thought; he often reaches the sublime, and his style, though blemished by occasional faults, is very fine; al-Bohtori is remarkable for grace and elegance; Abû-l-Alâ for dignity and beauty; but Ibn-al-Fârid seems superior to them all, his pieces teem with sentiment and poetry, in his mystic reveries he soars towards the confines of another world pervaded with spiritual beauty, and glides with the reader from one enchanting scene to another; the judgment is captivated by the genius of the poet, and can hardly perceive the traits of false taste which disfigure, from time to time, his admirable style. Having pointed out the influence of the kasîda, or elegy, it may not be ami to sketch the plan generally followed in this species of composition. The poet, accompanied by two friends, approaches, after a long journey through the desert, to the place where he saw his mistre the year before, and where he hopes to meet her again. At his request, they direct the camels on which they are mounted towards the spot, but the ruins of the rustic dwellings, the withered mo , brushwood, and branches of trees, with which were formed the frail abodes where the tribe had pa ed the summer, the hearthstones blackened by the fire, the solitary raven hovering around in search of a scanty nourishment, every object he perceives strikes him with the conviction that his beloved and her family have removed to some other region in the desert. Overcome with grief, heedle of the consolations of his friends, who exhort him to be firm, he long remains plunged in silent affliction; at length he finds relief in a torrent of tears, and, raising up his head, he extemporizes a mournful elegy. He commences by mentioning the places which he had already visited in hopes of finding her whom he loved, and calls to mind the dangers which he had encountered in the desert. He describes the camel which, though fatigued, still full of ardour, had borne him into the depths of the wilderne , he vaunts his own courage and extols the glory of his tribe. An adventure which happened on the previous night then comes to his memory: a fire blazing on a lofty hill, had attracted their attention and guided them to the tent of a generous Arab, where they found shelter and hospitality. He then praises the charms of his mistre , and complains of the pains of love and absence, whilst his companions hurry him away. He casts a parting look towards the place where she had resided, and lo! a dark cloud, fringed with rain, and rent with lightnings, overhangs the spot. This sight fills his heart with joy! an abundant shower is about to shed new life upon the parched soil, and thus ensure a rich herbage for the flocks; the family of his beloved will then soon return, and settle again in their former habitation. “Such may be considered as the outline of the pastoral kasîda. In these productions the same ideas almost constantly recur, and the same words frequently serve to expre them. The eulogistic kasîda, or poem in praise of some great man, a umes also the same form, with the sole difference that in place of a mistre it is a generous patron whom the poet goes to visit, or else, after praising the object of his pa ion, he celebrates the noble qualities of the man who is always ready, with abundant gifts, to bestow consolation on the afflicted lover. “It results from this that a person familiar with the mode of composition followed in the kasîda, can often, from a single word in a verse, perceive the drift of the poet, and discover, almost intuitively, the thoughts which are to follow. He has thus a means of determining the true readings amidst the ma of errors with which copyists usually disfigure Arabic poetry ; knowing what the poet intends to say, he feels no longer any difficulty in disengaging the author’s words from the faults of a corrupted text. The same peculiarity is frequently perceptible in pieces of a few verses; these generally reproduce some of the ideas contained in the kasîda, and for this reason they are justly styled fragments by Arabic writers. “There exist, also, some compositions of an original form: such are the dûbait , or distich, and the mawâlia , both borrowed from the Persians, and the muwashshaha , invented in Spain by Ibn Abd Rabbîh. Pieces of this kind became general favourites by the novelty of their form and matter; the mawâlia was adopted by the dervishes, and the muwashshaha was cultivated with pa ion and attained its perfection in And alus i a, whence it was transported to the East. It cannot be denied that the Moorish poets, with all their extravagance of thought and expre ion, were far superior in their perception of the beauties of nature and the delicacies of sentiment, to their brethren of the East, and the European reader will often discover in their poems, with some surprise, the same ideas, metaphors, and systems of versification, which characterise the works of the troubadours and the early Italian poets. “An idea borrowed from the ante-Islamic poets, and of frequent recurrence in the kasîdas of later authors, is the taif al-khiâl ( t̤āʾifu ʾl-k͟hiyāl ), or phantom. The lover journeys with a caravan through the desert; for many nights his grief at being separated from his beloved prevents him from sleeping, but at length he yields to fatigue and closes his eyes. A phantom then approaches towards him, unseen by all but himself, and in it he recognises the image of his mistre , come to visit and console him. It was sent to him by the beloved, or rather it is herself in spirit, who has cro ed the dreary waste and fleeted towards his couch; she, too, had slept, but it was to go and see her lover in her dreams. They thus meet in spite of the foes and spies who always surround the poet, ready to betray him if he obtain an interview with the beloved, and who are so jealous, that they hinder him from sleeping, lest he should see her image in his dream; it is only when they slumber that he dare close his eyes. “The figurative language of the Muslim poets is often difficult to be understood. The narci us is the eye; the feeble stem of that plant bends languidly under its flower, and thus recalls to mind the languor of the eyes. Pearls signify both tears and teeth, the latter are sometimes called hailstones, from their whitene and moisture; the lips are cornelians or rubies; the gums a pomegranate flower; the dark foliage of the myrtle is synonymous with the black hair of the beloved, or with the first down which appears on the cheeks of youths at the period of puberty. The down itself is called the izâr or head-stall of the bridle, and the curve of the izâr is compared to the letters lâm and nûn . Ringlets trace on the cheek or neck the letter wâw ; they are also called scorpions, either for their dark colour or their agitated movements; the eye is a sword; the eyelids, scabbards; the whitene of the complexion, camphor; and a mole or beauty-spot, musk, which term denotes also dark hair. A mole is sometimes compared also to an ant creeping on the cheek towards the honey of the mouth; a handsome face is both a full-moon and day; black hair is night; the waist is a willow-branch, or a lance; the water of the face is self-respect; a poet sells the water of his face when he bestows mercenary praises on a rich patron devoid of every noble quality. “Some of the verses in Arabic poetry (as in all Eastern poetry) are of a nature such as precludes translation. Had they been composed by a female on a youth whom she loved, they would seldom offer anything objectionable; but as the case is not so, they are utterly repugnant to European readers. It must not, however, be supposed that they are always the produce of a degraded pa ion; in many cases they were the usual expre ion of simple friendship and affection, or of those platonic attachments which the translated works of some Greek philosophers first taught the Moslims. Indeed, love and friendship are so closely confounded by them, that they designate both feelings by the same word, and it is not uncommon to meet epistles addre ed by one aged doctor to another, and containing sentiments of the strongest kind, but which are the expre ion of friendship only. It often happens, also, that a poet describes his mistre under the attributes of the other sex, lest he should offend that exce ive prudery of Oriental feelings which, since the fourth century of Islamism, scarcely allows an allusion to women, and more particularly in poetry, and this rigidne is still carried so far, that at Cairo public singers dare not amuse their auditors with a song in which the beloved is indicated as a female. Some of those pieces have also a mystic import, as the commentators of Hafiz, Saadi, and She bister i, have not failed to observe.” ( Ib ., p. xxxiii. et seq .)