MY KING. (After “My Queen.” Music by Blumenthal.) When and how shall I meet him, if ever? What are the words he first will say? How will the barriers now that sever Our kindred spirits be rolled away? This self-same daylight on him is shining, Shining somewhere the while I sing―― The only one who, my will resigning, Could I acknowledge my King, my King! Whether his hair be golden or raven, Whether his eye be dark or blue, I know not now, but ’twould be engraven Some day hence as the loveliest hue. Many a face I have liked for a minute, Been charmed by a voice with a pleasant ring But ever and aye there was something in it, Something that could not be his, my King! I will not dream of him, handsome and strong, My ideal love may be weak and slight; It matters not to what class he belong, He would be noble enough in my sight. He may not be brilliantly gifted, my lord, Or he may be learned in everything, But if ever he comes he will touch the chord Whose melody waits for the hand of its King! But he must be courteous towards the lowly, To the weak and sorrowful, loving too; He must be courageous, refined, holy, By nature exalted, and firm, and true. To such I might fearlessly give the keeping Of love that would never out-grow its spring: There would be few tears of a woman’s weeping If they loved such men as my King, my King! _London Society._ “My Queen,” which appeared originally in _London Society_ some time before the above imitation, consisted of four verses, but as arranged by Blumenthal the second verse is omitted:―― Whether her hair be golden or raven, Whether her eyes be hazel or blue, I know not now but ’twill be engraven, On that white day as my perfect hue. Many a girl I have loved for a minute, Worshipped many a face I have seen; But ever and aye there was something in it, Something that could not be hers, My Queen. ―――― MY SCHEME. (As sung with great success by the L-d Ch-nc-ll-r). Why and when were we driven to moot it? Was it knocked off in an afternoon? Will the Roman-Catholic Bishops hoot it? Have we set it afloat too late?――too soon? Did we try it because we feared a flounder? No matter.――Since still we reign supreme, Admitting that nothing simpler, sounder, Have we ever turned out than, “My Scheme, my Scheme!” * * * * * _Punch._ July, 12, 1879. ―――― ONLY A LOCK OF HIS HAIR. (Companion to the popular song, “Only a lock of Her Hair.”)