'Let's quit this vain world, with its pleasures that cloy, A destiny tranquil and sweet to enjoy: Descend to my cellar, and there taste the charms Of Champagne and Beaune; Our pleasure will there be without the alarms Of any joy queller; For the _ennui_ that often mounts up to the throne Will never descend to the cellar.'[190] The poet appears to have rivalled one of the characters in his piece, _Les Festes Sincères_ (represented on the 5th October 1744 on the occasion of the King's convalescence), who, after describing how wine was freely proffered to all comers, said that he had contented himself with thirty glasses, 'half Burgundy and half Champagne.' In a piece of verse entitled 'La Charme du Vaudeville à Table,' Panard sketches in glowing colours the inspiriting effect of sparkling Champagne upon such a joyous company of periwigged beaux and patched and powdered beauties as we may imagine to be assembled at the hospitable board of some rich financier of the epoch. ''Tis then some joyous guest A flask, filled with the best Of Reims or Ay, securely sealed, holds up; He deftly cuts the string, Aloft the cork takes wing; The rest with eager eyes Thrust glasses t'wards the prize, And watch the nectar foaming o'er the cup. They sip, they drink, they laugh, And then anew they quaff Their bumpers, crowned above the brim with foam That gives to laughter birth, And makes fresh bursts of mirth. Its spirit and its fire Unto the brain aspire, And rouse the wit of which this is the home.'[191] [Illustration] To its praise he also devotes a poetic _tour de force_, the concluding verses of which may thus be rendered: 'Thanks to the bowl That cheers my soul, No care can make me shrink. The foam divine Of this gray wine,[192] I think, When it I drain, Gives to each vein A link. Source of pure joy, Without alloy, Come, dear one, fain I'd drink! Divine Champagne, All grief and pain In thee I gladly sink. All ills agree Away from thee To slink. Sweet to the nose As new-blown rose Or pink. With gifts that ease And charms that please, Come, dear one, fain I'd drink!'[193]