Fear no more the heat o'th' Sun
Nor the furious Winters rages,
Thou thy wordly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Golden Lads, and Girls all must,
As Chimney-Sweepers come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o'th' Great,
Thou art past the Tyrants stroke,
Care no more the clothe and eat,
To the Reed is as the Oak:
The Scepter, Learning, Physic must,
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the Lightning flash.
Nor th'all-dreaded Thunderstone.
Fear not Slander, Censure rash.
Thou hast finish'd Joy and moan.
All Lovers young, all Lovers must,
Consign to thee and come to dust.
No Exorcisor bar me thee,
Nor no wich-craft charm thee.
Ghost unlaid forbear thee.
Nothing ill come near thee.
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave.
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