From an Old German Poet by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Lyrics

That France has put us oft to rout
With powder, which ourselves found out;
And laughs at us for fools in print,
Of which our genius was the Mint;
All this I easily admit,
For we have genius, France has wit.
But 'tis too bad, that blind and mad
To Frenchmen's wives each travelling German goes,
Expands his manly vigour by their sides,
Becomes the father of his country's foes
And turns their warriors oft to parricides.