Germans ye view its horror and disgrace
With cold phosphoric eyes and phlegm of face.
Is Allemagne profound in science, lore,
And minstrel art?—her shame is but the more
To doze and dream by governments oppressed,
The spirit of a book-worm in each breast.
Well can ye mouth fair Freedom’s classic line,
And talk of Constitutions o’er your wine:
But all your vows to break the tyrant’s yoke
Expire in Bacchanalian song and smoke: