Jonathan Swift, 'The First Ode of the Second Book of Horace Paraphras'd', 1714
When A-N for Heav'n resigns Her Throne. But more than that, thou'lt keep a rout With - who is in - and who is out, Thou'lt rail devoutly at the Peace, And all its secret Causes trace, The Bucket-play 'twixt Whigs and Tories, Their ups and downs, with fifty Stories Of Tricks, the Lord of Ox---d knows, And Errors of our Plenipoes. Thou'lt tell of Leagues among the Great Portending ruin to our State, And of that dreadful *coup d'eclat, Which has afforded thee much Chat, The Q---n (forsooth, Despotick) gave Twelve Coronets, without thy leave! A Breach of Liberty, 'tis own'd, For which no Heads have yet aton'd! Believe me, what thou'st undertaken May bring in Jeopardy thy Bacon, For Madmen, Children, Wits and Fools Shou'd never meddle with Edg'd Tools. But since thou'rt got into the Fire, And canst not easily retire, Thou must no longer deal in Farce, Nor pump to cobble wicked Verse; Untill thou shalt have eas'd thy Conscience, Of Spleen, of Politicks and Nonsense, And when thou'st bid Adieu to Cares, And settled Europe's Grand Affairs, 'Twill then, perhaps, be worth thy while For Drury-lane to shape thy Stile: 'To make a pair of Jolly Fellows, The Son and Father, join to tell us, How Sons may safely disobey, And Fathers never shou'd say nay, By which wise Conduct they grow Friends At last' - and so the Story ends.