The Commander Descartes seems not to have been afraid to extol the charms of the sparkling wine to the younger Bertin du Rocheret, as stern a decrier of its merits as his father had previously been. In a letter dated December 1735, asking for 'one or two dozen bottles of sparkling white wine, neither _vert_ nor _liquoreux_, "I should like," he says, "some Of that delectable white wine Which foams and sparkles in the glass, And seldom mortal lips does pass; But cheers, at festivals divine, The gods to whom it owes its birth, Or else the great, our gods on earth."'[182] Amongst other versifiers of this epoch enamoured with the merits of the wine may be cited Charles Lebatteux, professor of rhetoric at Reims University, who in 1739 composed an ode, 'In Civitatem Remensam,' containing the following invocation to Bacchus: ''Tis not on the icy-topped mountains of Thrace, Or those of Rhodope, thy favours I trace-- Not there to invoke thee I'd roam. No! Reims sees thee reign sovereign lord o'er her hills; There I offer my vows, and the nectar that thrills To my soul I will seek close at home. Whether Venus-like rising midst foam sparkling white, Or wrapped in a mantle of rose rich and bright, Thou seekest my senses to fire, Come aid me to sing, for my Muse is full fain To owe on this day each melodious strain To the fervour 'tis thine to inspire.'[183] Bertin du Rocheret, who by no means shared his friend Voltaire's admiration for the sparkling vintage of Ay, sang the praises of the still wine of the Champagne after the following fashion in 1741: 'No, such blockheads do not sip Of that most delicious wine; Soul of love and fellowship, Sweet as truly 'tis benign. No, their palate, spoilt and worn, Craves adult'rate juice to drain; Poison raw which we should scorn, Beverage fit for frantic brain. Let us, therefore, hold as fools Such as now feign to despise Those _balsamic molecules_ Horace used to sing and prize. No, such blockheads do not sip Of that most delicious wine; Soul of joy and fellowship, Sweet as truly 'tis benign. Of that wine, so purely white, Which the sternest mood makes pass, And which sparkles yet more bright In your eyes than in my glass. Drink, then, drink; I pledge you, dear, In the nectar old we prize; Sparkling in our glasses clear, But more brightly in your eyes.'[184] [Illustration]