A fine old feudal knight
Of bluff and boisterous might,
Whose casque feels—ah, so heavy when one wakes!”
“And I, the dainty Bordeaux, violets’
Perfume, and whose rare rubies gourmets prize.
My subtile savour gets
In partridge wings its daintiest allies.”
Ah, potent chiefs, Bordeaux and Burgundy.
If we must answer make,
This sober counsel take:
Messeigneurs, sing your worth less haughtily,
For ’tis Champagne, the sparkling soul of mirth,
That bubbling o’er with laughing gas,
Flashes gay sunbeams in the glass,
And like our flag goes proudly round the earth.