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 Chap. Copyright No..„. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
THE HOUSE OF A 
 HUNDRED LIGHTS 
 
THEHOVSEOFA 
 HVNDREDLIGHTS 
 
 BYFREDERIC-RIDGELY-^ORRENCE 
 
 SMALLMAYNARD & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 1900 
 
COPYRIGHT 1899 BY 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD 6- COMPANY 
 
 (incorporated) 
 
 rwo copies "S'a^ 
 
 Llbrfcry.of Ceitgfes* ^ ^°° 
 Office of the 
 
 DEC 1 91&99 
 
 Register of Cf , 
 
 49517 -, ■ 
 
 SECOND COPY, 
 
 
TO EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN 
 WITH REVERENCE AND LOVE 
 
~fv£tfa$pmzi 
 
 THE HOUSE OF A HUNDRED 
 LIGHTS: A PSALM OF EXPE- 
 RIENCE AFTER READING 
 A COUPLET OF BIDPA1 
 
 On the pond's face, the pelting rain 
 made bubbles, and they broke again, 
 
 And reappeared and disappeared 
 and, ah! I knew them — they were men. 
 
 The wise men say that life's not worth 
 a barley-corn when all is done. 
 
 Well then— and not till then— I'll try 
 the granary behind the sun. 
 
 3 
 
 "Doubt everything," the Thinker said 
 
 when I was parch'd with Reason's drought. 
 Said he, "Trust me, I've probed these things; 
 have utter faith in me, — and doubt! " 
 
" Though the sky reel and Day dissolve, 
 and though a myriad suns fade out, 
 One thing of Earth seems permanent 
 and founded on Belief: 'tis — Doubt. 
 
 5 
 
 The world's great rule is, " Give and take"; 
 
 and, so that Custom may not smother, 
 I'll give Doubt freely with one hand 
 
 and take Faith freely by the other. 
 
 6 
 
 Yes, He that wove the skein of Stars 
 and poured out all the seas that are 
 
 Is Wheel and Spinner and the Flax, 
 and Boat and Steersman and the Star. 
 
 7 
 
 What ! doubt the Master Workman's hand 
 because my fleshly ills increase ? 
 
 No ; for there still remains one chance 
 that I am not His Masterpiece. 
 
8 
 
 Out of all Epicurus' train 
 I wonder which class is sincerest : 
 
 The drones, or workers, who believe 
 this doctrine of " Believe-The-Nearest." 
 
 9 
 
 Though man or angel judge my life 
 and read it like an open scroll, 
 
 And weigh my heart, I have a judge 
 more just than any — my own soul. 
 
 10 
 
 The Great Inn Keeper's table is 
 the whole green face of Earth, and so 
 
 I sit at meat with Him nor care 
 whether the Guest be friend or foe. 
 
 11 
 
 The wise man said, " Beware of Love ; 
 
 behold, its end is Ash and Rue ! " 
 Ho, ho," cried Youth, " this heart of mine 
 
 is braver than I ever knew." 
 
12 
 
 Last night I heard a wanton girl 
 call softly down unto her lover, 
 
 Or call at least unto the shade 
 of Cypress where she knew he'd hover. 
 
 13 
 
 Said she, " Come forth, my Perfect One; 
 
 the old bugs sleep and take their ease : 
 We shall have honey overmuch 
 
 without the buzzing of the bees," 
 
 14 
 
 Ah, Foolish Ones, I heard your vows 
 and whispers underneath the tree. 
 
 Her father is more wakeful than 
 she ever dreamed, for I — was he. 
 
 15 
 
 I saw them kissing in the shade 
 and knew the sum of all my lore : 
 
 God gave them Youth, God gave them Love, 
 and even God can give no more. 
 
16 
 
 At first, she loved nought else but flowers, 
 and then — she only loved the Rose, 
 
 And then — herself alone, and then — 
 she knew not what, but now — she knows. 
 
 17 
 
 Ah, Flattery, thou'rt like a comb 
 with double face and double tongue, 
 
 These women wear thee on their brows 
 like an asp coiled where it stung. 
 
 18 
 
 The lies men tell I can see through — 
 they hold no more than does a sieve : 
 
 But women's lies hold like the sea, 
 and like it surge and swell and live. 
 
 19 
 
 Hot Youth, to know Contented Love, 
 must first bide Slander's rude caress, 
 
 And learn to quench his Fire-of-Rage 
 in Water-of-Babes-Gentleness. 
 
20 
 
 The night passed and some youths caroused 
 and some poor Fakir kept his fast : 
 
 Some lovers kissed, some graves were dug, 
 all the same night, and the night— passed. 
 
 21 
 
 I know not from the fading Rose 
 with parted lips what whisper went. 
 
 I only know the Nightingale 
 Sang once again his old lament. 
 
 22 
 
 A nightingale once lost his voice 
 from too much love, and he who flees 
 
 From Thirst to Wine-of-his-Desire 
 must not forget the last — the lees. 
 
 23 
 
 Night is a woman vaguely veiled 
 and made to woo, I see her now : 
 
 The newborn moon is suddenly 
 her slender, golden, arched eyebrow. 
 
24 
 
 I know a Thief who longs to steal 
 from the moon's granary on high 
 
 Or snatch the bunch of Pleiades 
 from out the cornfield of the sky. 
 
 25 
 
 Desire's gold gates are always barred 
 and open at no call or knock. 
 
 Age knows the only key is Pain , 
 but Youth still thinks to force the lock. 
 
 26 
 
 You invalids who cannot drink 
 much wine or love, I say to you : 
 
 Content yourselves with laughing at 
 the antics of the fools who do." 
 
 27 
 
 Bad-Liver says each morning's sun 
 is but to him a juggling bawd 
 
 That opens up for man's deceit 
 only another chest of fraud. 
 
28 
 
 Old Ash-in- Blood still deals advice 
 to Rose-of-Youth, and as he deals it, 
 
 Rolls piously his eyes ; but ah ! 
 he knows the pain whose body feels it. 
 
 29 
 
 Now (to be brief)," the Preacher said, 
 " each chose, himself, the path he's wending ; 
 But has each thought upon the end ? " 
 And Youth said, " Is there then an ending?" 
 
 30 
 
 Five senses have been given us 
 but while Youth pipes its roundelay 
 
 They are five open doors through which 
 both Love and Life may slip away. 
 
 31 
 
 Youth dreamed that Chaos swallowed Space, 
 Time's iron chain was snapped like rope, 
 
 Eternity passed, and was gone, 
 yet after all these things came — Hope. 
 
32 
 
 But now where is that faggot-heap 
 of hope wherewith my youth began ? 
 
 Fate was the flint and Time the steel 
 that kindled every thought and plan. 
 
 33 
 
 In youth my head was hollow, like 
 a gourd, not knowing good from ill ; 
 
 Now, though 't is long since then, I'm like 
 a reed, — wind-shaken — hollow still. 
 
 34 
 
 The reader in Life's mighty book, 
 in quest of Happiness, the bubble, 
 
 Ne'er sees the Writing of Content 
 without the heavy blot of Trouble. 
 
 35 
 
 The same small windows light all lives 
 whether they be of rich or poor : 
 
 A sigh, a laugh, some wine, a sleep, 
 a tear, and then — the open door. 
 
36 
 
 Yes, we do sleep and dream and laugh, 
 . and yes, we wake and work and sigh ; 
 I simply mumble now, " We do"; 
 the watchword of my youth was, " Why?" 
 
 37 
 
 Age lays its ear unto the lips 
 
 of Mortal- Man's-Experience 
 And only drinks the four faint words 
 
 of Where and How and Why and Whence. 
 
 33 
 
 Tell Youth to play with Wine and Love 
 and never bear away the scars ! 
 
 I may as well tilt up the sky 
 and yet try not to spill the stars. 
 
 39 
 
 Yet even for Youth's fevered blood 
 
 there is a certain balm here in 
 This maiden's mouth : O sweet disease ! 
 
 and happy, happy medicine ! 
 
40 
 
 And maiden, should these bitter tears 
 you shed be burdensome, know this : 
 
 There is a cure worth all the pain 
 — to-night — beneath the moon — a kiss. 
 
 41 
 
 Girl, when he gives you kisses twain, 
 use one, and let the other stay ; 
 
 And hoard it, for moons die, red fades, 
 and you may need a kiss — some day. 
 
 42 
 
 One says, " Truth's false and false is true." 
 Well, since I've seen this maiden's eyes, 
 
 I'll be so false as to be true, 
 and such a fool as to be wise. 
 
 43 
 
 These three have never yet been bought 
 or sold within the market place, — 
 
 Good Luck or Love or Youth for gold 
 of any of the populace. 
 
44 
 
 Said one young foolish mouth with words 
 as many as the desert sands, 
 " My grandfather took daily baths 
 
 in rose water, just smell my hands ! " 
 
 45 
 
 When priests give draughts of Duty's bowl 
 and all streams that proceed from thence, 
 
 The old men do not drink with youths : 
 they drink Advice, the young.— Offense. 
 
 46 
 
 Brothers, to-day Time set a feast, 
 for this day Summer was begun ; 
 
 And by a priest called Equinox 
 the Year was married to the Sun. 
 
 47 
 
 And now young poets will arise 
 and burst Earth's fetters link by link, 
 
 And mount the Skies of Poesy, 
 and daub Time's helpless wings with ink ! 
 
48 
 
 In youth I wrote a song so great, 
 I thought that, like a flaring taper, 
 
 T would shine abroad, — and so it did, 
 to the four corners of the — paper. 
 
 49 
 
 And poet, should you think your songs 
 
 must or even will be read, 
 Bethink thee, friend, what fine springs rise 
 
 impotently from the sea's bed. 
 
 50 
 
 Fame sets the pace : the more you chase, 
 the more she'll turn and taunt and flee, 
 
 Till you stand breathless at the goal 
 and read its name, " Obscurity." 
 
 51 
 
 I did not hate that orator 
 of many words for what he said : 
 
 I only thought it just some old 
 quaint game his tongue played with his 
 head. 
 
52 
 
 I marveled at the speaker's tongue 
 and marveled more as he unrolled it. 
 
 How strange a thing it was, and yet, 
 how much more strange if he could hold it ! 
 
 53 
 A little Judge once said to me : 
 
 "Behold, my friend, /caused these laws!" 
 But I knew One who, strange to say, 
 
 had been the Causer of this Cause. 
 
 54 
 
 And my conceited friend, be sure 
 when you sleep, others will arouse ; 
 
 For the Great Landlord can't endure 
 to have no tenants in His house. 
 
 55 
 
 Many a word caused many a tear 
 between the rise and set of sun ; 
 
 Many a sound caused many a sigh 
 but Silence rarely caused a one. 
 
56 
 
 The Tabor is the noisiest 
 of instruments, but take the pest 
 
 And crack his hide and peer within, 
 you'll find his heart is hollowest. 
 
 57 
 
 Uhfus rehearsed before his goat, 
 and practiced speech each day above it, 
 
 Until his fame spread far and wide, 
 and yet — the goat — knew nothing of it. 
 
 58 
 
 The villagers laugh at their fool, 
 
 and roar and cough and shake and nurse 
 Their aching sides, then laugh again ; 
 
 but he — laughs at the villagers. 
 
 59 
 
 This raindrop makes me dream brave dreams 
 
 of how to overcome the sea : 
 The drop's far wiser head dreams too 
 
 its dream, Impossibility. 
 
60 
 
 When I'm in health and asked to choose 
 between the This and That, alas ! 
 
 I all too gladly yield my throne 
 up there beside the Sea of Glass. 
 
 61 
 
 The Song of Love, the Song of Hate, 
 the Songs of Praise and of Thanksgiving; 
 
 I've learned them all, but there remains 
 one called the Melody of Living. 
 
 62 
 
 A strong, brave man is born each month, 
 each year God gives a sage to men, 
 
 A poet each ten years, perhaps, 
 but an unselfish person, — when ? 
 
 63 
 
 Sometimes I think that all mankind 
 exist but to be bought and sold : 
 
 The rich man's paramour is gold, 
 the poor man's goddess, gold, gold, gold. 
 
64 
 
 Whatever Juice this sky will pour 
 this gaping parched old throat will drain ; 
 
 What time the Harper harps I'll dance : 
 'tis He, not I, who shall complain. 
 
 65 
 
 Meal may be scarce and cakes be burnt, 
 
 yet I weep not nor even scold : 
 The sun is food enough for me, 
 
 't is large, and has not yet grown cold. 
 
 66 
 
 And yet, when eventide comes on 
 I know that I'll be glad to take 
 
 A little wine with snow, and yes 
 (after the sun) , a little cake. 
 
 67 
 
 Why ! 'mongst all languages of earth 
 there's none so sweet nor yet so fine 
 
 As that one spoken daily thrice 
 by two and thirty teeth of mine. 
 
68 
 
 Yet what have I to do with sweets 
 like Love, or Wine, or Fame's dear curse ? 
 
 For I can do without all things 
 except — except the universe. 
 
 69 
 
 The sieve-like cup of Earthly Joy 
 still foams for me with many a bead, 
 
 But I have found another wine 
 called Charity-without-a-Creed. 
 
 70 
 
 And if I want to sleep, I'll sleep 
 more than Religion's laws allow. 
 
 We'll have a long sleep in the grave 
 erelong ; and should we not learn how ? 
 
 71 
 
 Whether my days are cooled with calm 
 or filled with fever's ardent taint, 
 
 I have the same blue sky as God, 
 1 have the same God as the saint. 
 
72 
 
 When strangers sit at meat with me, 
 e'en though they be of rich condition, 
 
 And all their words be feasts, I'll take 
 them with the little spice— Suspicion. 
 
 73 
 In all the undertakings I 
 
 have entered in, my stratagem 
 Has been to widen carefully 
 
 some gap for getting out of them. 
 
 74 
 
 I answer to the riddle of 
 
 " How many men on earth should be?" 
 For friends, a billion are too few ; 
 
 for enemies, — one surfeits me." 
 
 75 
 
 I make no truce with cunning foes, 
 beneath their sweetest words lurk thorns, 
 
 But with all fools I am at peace : 
 whoever saw an ass with horns ? 
 
76 
 
 Though all I was seems but a dream, 
 and all I am, not worth a sigh, 
 
 If all that 1 possess is — friends, 
 well, all 1 wish is — not to die. 
 
 77 
 
 I give God praise because of right, 
 and fear, for terrors that He sends ; 
 
 But more than all, I give Him love 
 because He gave to me — my friends. 
 
 78 
 
 When I get wounds from enemies 
 
 I try not to lament a bit : 
 The tree that bears not any fruit, 
 
 who ever threw a stone at it ? 
 
 79 
 
 When Fortune sits at meat with me 
 and lights my fire and tolls my bell, 
 
 Be very sure I'll soon collect 
 all scattered Means-of -doing- Well. 
 
80 
 
 Ye wily ones think not to thwart 
 what warrant Destiny hath signed ; 
 
 For just before he strikes, he makes 
 the cunningest both deaf and blind. 
 
 81 
 
 But work a year and sleep an hour, 
 and sleep a night and sing a day, 
 
 And take a little wine and love, 
 and when you feel religious — pray. 
 
 82 
 
 So far, alas, the desert bears 
 the Caravan of the Wise and Just, 
 
 The wind brings to these foolish ones 
 no sound of it, nor scent, nor dust. 
 
 83 
 
 For some are beasts and some are men 
 in these new days as in the olden, 
 
 For neither now nor evermore 
 will gold be clay or clay be golden. 
 
84 
 
 Think not such sterile leaves of chaff 
 
 have ever yet escaped the flail, 
 For on Fate's dreadful threshing floor 
 
 Contrivance is of no avail. 
 
 85 
 
 Sea fathoms deep midst gold and gems 
 Life sits and weeps on ocean's floor, 
 
 But though on land no treasure is, 
 Life laughs and stands — I'll stay on shore. 
 
 86 
 
 I envied the brown diver when 
 he brought the pearl to where I read, 
 
 But envy had not known my heart 
 when the green waves closed o'er his head. 
 
 87 
 
 E'en though 1 be but thorns and dust 
 the Gard'ner gives me as He goes 
 
 Such rains and suns, I give Him blooms, 
 yes — perchance — even — a Rose. 
 
88 
 
 Whether I be a blossom for 
 the Gardener's nostrils I care not ; 
 
 Mayhap I'll be the stick of wood 
 that feeds the fire to boil His pot. 
 
 89 
 
 Now Patience is the hurtfullest 
 of all the thorns my Garden wears, 
 
 And yet the sweetest of them all 
 is the white bud that Patience bears. 
 
 90 
 
 This mess of cracked ice, stones and bread 
 of sweetness savours not a bit, 
 
 And yet my friends, I'm satisfied, 
 f or lo ! I — I — invented it ! 
 
 91 
 
 When my desire has set itself 
 upon a thing and strives to win it, 
 
 And Wisdom's method's will not gain, 
 I use a little Folly in it. 
 
92 
 
 Now all ye slothful ones, who fear 
 Death's nearing goal, take heart of grace: 
 
 Who never went upon the road 
 will never reach the halting place. 
 
 93 
 Let me once see my Spring of Hope 
 
 clad in her clinging, light green dress, 
 Then I, for one, will aye endure 
 
 my yellow Autumns of Distress. 
 
 94 
 
 Now who will undertake to tie 
 this broken strand of yellow hair ? 
 
 Ah ! Is it tied, and strong ? But friend, 
 forget not this, — the knot is there. 
 
 95 
 
 Sometimes I think man's fate is like 
 a weather vane with circling base 
 
 That points now north, now south, now turns, 
 blown by the winds of Time and Space. 
 
96 
 
 The Great Sword Bearer only knows 
 just when He'll wound my heart, not I : 
 
 But since He is the one who gives 
 the balm, what does it signify ? 
 
 97 
 
 If my Control should lose its hold 
 on Fortune's collar through some hurt, 
 
 What then? — Why then I'd simply cling 
 to old grey Resignation's skirt. 
 
 98 
 
 Of all the languages of earth 
 in which the human kind confer 
 
 The Master Speaker is the Tear: 
 it is the Great Interpreter. 
 
 99 
 
 Man's life is like a tide that weaves 
 
 the sea within its daily web. 
 It rises, surges, swells and grows, 
 
 — a pause — then comes the evening ebb. 
 
100 
 
 In this rough field of earthly life 
 1 have reaped cause for tears enough, 
 
 Yet after all, I think I've gleaned 
 my modicum of Laughing-Stuff. 
 
OF THIS FIRST EDITION OF THE 
 HOUSE OFAHUNDRED LIGHTS BY 
 FREDERIC RIDGELEY TORRENCE 
 WITH DECORATIONS AND COVER 
 DESIGN BY BERTRAM GROSVENOR 
 GOODHUE SEVEN HUNDRED AND 
 FIFTY COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED 
 FROM TYPE FOR SMALL MAYNARD 
 & COMPANY AT THE HEINTZEMANN 
 PRESS IN BOSTON U.S.A. IN THE 
 MONTH OF NOVEMBER MDCCCXCIX 
 
 up 
 
 kintztrxmi 
 
DEC 19 1899