Ej Blot Til Lyst

Not merely for our pleasure, but to purge The soul from baseness, from ignoble fear, And all the passions that make dim the clear Calm vision of the world; our feet to urge On to ideal far-set goals; to merge Our being with the heart of things; brought near The springs of life, to make us see and hear And feel its swelling and pulsating surge:— Such, Thespian art divine, thy nobler aim; For this the tale of Œdipus was told, Of frenzied Lear, Harpagon’s greed of gold;— And, knowing this, how must we view with shame Thy low estate, and hear the plaudits loud That mark thee now but pander to the crowd!