I gave Flux 3 the penultimate lines of Eliot's The Wasteland, which involve both switches in tone and in language. I had it read by a modern Fisher King as a city decays behind him. The results were surprisingly good.

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam uti chelidon—O swallow swallow
Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins