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40 Ah, well-a-day for Peter Bell!—

He will be turned to iron soon,

Meet Statue for the court of Fear!

His hat is up—and every hair

Bristles—and whitens in the moon!

He looks—he ponders—looks again;

He sees a motion—hears a groan;—

His eyes will burst—his heart will break—

He gives a loud and frightful shriek,

And drops, a senseless weight, as if his life were flown!