Castelfar! Heave, Thorparch Of the Waving Larch, And Spofford's thane, for Gamelbar! Blaise for Gamel, Brame for Gamel, Rougharlington for Gamelbar! Maidens; strew for Gamelbar Roses down his way to war! Heave a handful, Fill the land full Of your gifts to Gamelbar! Dream of Gamel, Dance for Gamel, Dance in the halls for Gamelbar! Servitors, shout for Gamelbar! Roast the ox and stick the boar! Heave a bone To gaunt Harone, The great war-hound of Gamelbar! Mead for Gamel, Mirth for Gamel, Mirth at the board for Gamelbar! Trumpets, speak for Gamelbar! Blare as ye never blared before! Heave a bray In the horns to-day, The red war-horns of Gamelbar! To-night for Gamel, The North for Gamel, With fires on the hills for Gamelbar! Shout for Gamel, Gamelbar, Till your throats can shout no more! Heave a cry As he rideth by, Sons of Orm, for Gamelbar! Folk for Gamel, Fame for Gamel, Years and fame for Gamelbar! 

CHORUS:—              Oh, sleep for a knave With his sins in the sod! And death for the brave, With his glory up to God! And joy for the girl, And ease for the churl! But the great game of war For our lord Gamelbar, Gamelbar!     

THE OUTLAW.

 Oh, let my lord laugh in his halls When he the tale shall tell! But woe to Jarlwell and its walls When I shall laugh as well! And he that laughs the last, lads, Laughs well, laughs well! He's lord of many a burg and farm And mickle thralls and gold, And I am but my own right arm, My dwelling-place the wold. But when we twain meet face to face, He will hot laugh so bold. The shame he chuckles as he shows This time he need not tell; I'll give his body to the crows, And his black soul to Hell. For he that laughs the last, lads, Laughs well, laughs well! 

THE KING'S SON.

 "Daughter, daughter, marry no man, Though a king's son come to woo, If he be not more than blessing or ban To the secret soul of you."  "'Tis the King's son, indeed, I ween, And he left me even but now, And he shall make me a dazzling queen, With a gold crown on my brow."  "And are you one that a golden crown, Or the lust of a name can lure? You had better wed with a country clown, And keep your young heart pure."  "Mother, the King has sworn, and said That his son shall wed but me; And I must gang to the prince's bed, Or a traitor I shall be."  "Oh, what care you for an old man's wrath? Or what care you for a king? I had rather you fled on an outlaw's path, A rebel, a hunted thing."  "Mother, it is my father's will, 

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