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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 of 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
sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to
dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the
all-dread 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 grave!
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