Fear no more the heat o’ the sun
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly 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’ the great;
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee 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 the 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 renownèd be thy grave!