Civilization's Clutches

Iqbal has no doubt of Europe’s humaneness: she Sheds tears for all peoples groaning beneath oppression;

Her reverend churchmen furnish her liberally With wiring and bulbs for moral illumination.

And yet, my heart burns for Syria and Palestine, And finds for this knotty puzzle no explanation

Enlarged from the ‘savage grasp’ of the Turk, they pine, Poor things, in the clutches now of ‘civilization.’