The village master taught his little school; A man severe he was and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee, At all his jokes, for manya joke had he.

-Goldsmith, Oliver
  The Deserted Village, l.196^202.

   But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay; Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows† Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, 'Fool,'said my muse to me; 'look in thy heart, and write.'

-Shute, Nevil originally Nevil Shute Norway
Astrophel and Stella, sonnet1.