"When you're lying awake, with a dismal headache,
And repose is tabooed by anxiety,
I conceive you may use any language you choose
To indulge in, without impropriety.
For your brain is on fire, the bedclothes conspire
Of usual slumber to plunder you:
First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes,
Then your sheet slips demurely from under you..."
. . . . . . . G&S, Iolanthe, Act II, "The Nightmare Song"

And didn't Robert Louis Stevenson write even earlier of "The Pleasant Land of Counterpane" ?