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
Golden lads and girls all must,
sweepers come to dust.
Fear no more the frown of the
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to
clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Fear not slander, censure rash;
hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!