Awd Isaac, The Steeple Chase, and Other Poems With a glossary of the Yorkshire Dialect — A Reader’s Guide

Dialect as a deliberate choice

Castillo writes in his preface that he offers nothing new in matter or language, yet the decision to print poems in Yorkshire dialect is itself a statement. The glossary at the end of the volume acknowledges that the speech of his region may be unfamiliar to some readers. In the poem Poetical Reflections, he asks permission to sing 'in my mother tongue,' linking dialect to home, memory, and authenticity. The dialect is not merely decorative; it anchors the poems to a specific place and community. When he describes 'the cottage once again I see, / Which oft has prov'd a safe retreat for me,' the plainness of the language reinforces the sincerity of the sentiment. The glossary itself, with entries for words like 'flincher' and 'awd,' becomes a tool for the reader to enter Castillo's world on its own terms.

Moral allegory through local incident

Many poems are built around a specific event or observation, then turned toward a moral or spiritual lesson. In The Village Church in Ruins!, a decayed building, a faithful minister, and a congregation of ten become emblems of religious neglect. The church's 'battlements crumble' under 'tribute to Cæsar,' and its 'grey headed Elders may weep in despair.' Yet the poem ends with the minister's exoneration: 'That worm eaten pulpit is clear of their blood!' The movement from physical decay to spiritual accountability is typical of Castillo's method. Similarly, the untitled poem beginning 'find him a flincher' uses wrestling imagery to warn against sin's deceptive allure: 'So sin is deceiving, / Bewitching, bereaving.' The concrete detail—a lift, a fall, a sting—gives the abstraction force.

Landscape as a repository of memory

Castillo frequently turns to the Yorkshire landscape as a source of both comfort and instruction. In Poetical Reflections, he catalogs the features that anchor his affections: 'cattle graze, and crystal fountains flow, / And rivers glide, and healthy breezes blow.' The scene is not just picturesque; it is the setting of his 'morning of days' and the place where he 'learn'd by grace, to walk in wisdom's ways.' The cottage becomes a castle, the roof a guard against storm and neighbor's frown. This personal geography is also communal: 'Here oft our little tribe have muster'd up, / And from each eye have wiped the crystal drop.' The landscape is not timeless but inhabited, marked by shared hardship and mutual comfort. The poem's movement from external scene to internal reflection is a recurring structural pattern.

Rhyme, meter, and the sound of conviction

Castillo's verse is formally regular, with consistent rhyme schemes and meter that give his moral declarations a hymn-like certainty. In The Village Church in Ruins!, the alternating rhyme and the steady iambic-anapestic rhythm carry the lament forward without allowing it to become sentimental. The repeated 'Alas' at the start of stanzas creates a litany of loss. Elsewhere, shorter lines and sharper rhymes suit the epigrammatic mode, as in the warning against sin: ''Twill put on fair faces, / To woo your embraces, / But after you've grasp'd it, there follows a sting!' The rhyme of 'faces' and 'embraces' is almost seductive, making the sting more effective. Castillo's control of sound reinforces his themes: the music of the verse is never at odds with the moral weight it carries.

Castillo's poems reward attention to their local details—the dialect words, the named places, the specific incidents—but they also invite a broader reading as documents of a particular kind of religious and regional consciousness. The glossary is not a barrier but a key. Readers who move slowly through the dialect will find that the poems' moral architecture is clear and consistent. The book is best approached as a collection of occasional pieces, each with its own occasion and its own lesson, rather than as a unified narrative. The index of poems at the end helps in navigating the volume's variety.

There’s a particular ache in Castillo’s dialect poems—that longing for a simpler faith, half-buried under the weight of daily worry. It made me think of an old reading of Types of Weltschmerz in German Poetry — Key Ideas to Explore, where that same sorrow wears a different coat, yet feels like a familiar neighbour. Strange, how a Yorkshire hillside and a Rhine valley can share one quiet, homesick weather.