AWD ISAAC. (PART SECOND.)

Oft hev Ah lang’d yon hill te clim, Te hev a bit mare prooase wi’ him, Wheas coonsel like a pleeasin dreeam, Is deear te me; Sin’ roond the warld sike men as he Seea few ther be. Corrupted bukes he did detest, For his wur ov the varry best; This meead him wiser than the rest O’ t’ neeaburs roond, Tho’ poor i’ t’ purse, wi’ senses blest, An’ judgment soond. Befoore the silvery neeght ov age, The precepts ov the sacred page, His meditation did engage, That race te run; Like thooase, who ’spite o’ Satan’s rage, The praaze hed won. Bud noo his een’s geean dim i’ deeath, Neea mare a pilgrim here on eearth, His sowl flits fra’ her shell beneeath, Te reealms o’ day, Whoor carpin care, an’ pain, an’ deeath, Are deean away. Wi’oot the author’s neeame or leeave, They’d put his stoory thruff the sieve, An’ roond his circuit set the screeve O’ justice keen, Fra’ crotchet cramp, or semibreeve, Te sift him cleean. The charge ’at they ageenst him bring,— He harps teea mitch upon yah string, Or triumphs like a lahtle king, Ow’r fashions gay; He’s ower religious!—That’s the thing They meean te say. Yet still Awd Isaac tells his teeal, Ower monny a weeary hill an’ deeal, An’ ’ll sumtaames into cities steeal, Nor silent be; Till infants try te lisp his theeame Across the sea. Oor last, an’ lasting interview, His wonted theeame he did renew, Fra’ which, a paraphrase he drew, An’ thus began, I’ conversation clear, an’ frindship true, Like man te man. “Ah lahtle thowght, as weel thoo knaws, Thoo te t’ public wad expooase, Mah awd gray cooat, wi’ all its flaws, An’ stick an’ all, For want o’ which, the aged prood Seea offens fall. Ah varry leeatly gat a hint, They’d put oor stoory into prent, An’ copies roond the coontry sent Beeath left and reeght; Bud if ’twur deean wi’ gud intent, Gud luck gang wi’ ’t. Noo all Ah sed wur meeant for gud, If it wur reeghtly understud; Te sum neea doot, t’language wud Seeam quite abrupt;— We’re all alike, ov flesh and bleead, An’ hearts corrupt. Fooaks oft leeaks mare at bleead an’ breedin, Than at t’subject they are reeadin, An’ thus awd prejudice is feedin, I’ system’s narrow, For want o’ pains te crack the beean Th’oft miss t’marrow. Men still i’ spite ov all oor caution, ’Ll hanker efter heeigh promotion; Like Evan’s Pills, or Rowland’s Lotion Saain’d by t’King; We’re seea inclin’d te self-devotion— That’s the thing.! T’ Naation still seeams discontent, Ther’s strange debeeates i’ parliament, Petitions on petitions sent Theer, all implorin; An’ sum i’ dungeons deep lament Whahl they’re snoorin. Still ower t’land t’clood hangs dull, An’ we may thrust, an’ they may pull; Wi’ “Eys an’ Nooas” the paper’s full, Wi’ applause an’ laughter: An’ all the gud for poor John Bull ’S te cum hereafter. Still let us calmly wait the end, On God, an’ nut on man, depend. Oor Nation’s woond is bad te mend, Ommost incurable! His Israel he will still defend, Wi’ kindness durable. Bud numbers streeangely hev backslidden, An’ deean thooase things ’at wur forbidden, An’ caused His feeace for te be hidden, By actions fowl, Till scarce a ray ov whooap is left Te cheer the sowl. T’coonsel Ah wad recommend Is all te strave ther lives te mend, An’ persevere unto the end I’ word an’ deed. An’ thooase ’ll nivver want a Frind I’ t’ taame o’ need. Bud Ah mun cut mah stoory shoort, Or it may mack the critics spoort, Oor subject’s ov too greeave a soort Te dwell upon. Afoore ye spreead yer next repoort, Ah sal be geean. For sin’ we met an’ pearted last, Ah finnd mah strenth decreeasing fast, Like floor’s beneeath the Nowthern blast, Yance fresh an’ gay, Seea man is doom’d te droop an’ waste, An’ fade away. Ah wad befoore Ah tack mah leave, Te all, mah deein coonsel give, An’ if i’ the truth they deea beleeave Or apprehend, That truth, whahl Ah’v a day te live Ah will defend.”