Fear no more the heat o` the sun,
Nor the furious winter`s rages;
Now tha' Richies task hast done,
Off art gone, and spen' thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o` the great;
Thou art past the tyrants stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as theoak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor th` all-dreaded thunder stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy choice!
