Then, relieved from his terrible agony
of soul, the Mariner slept, and when he woke he found that the
dreadful drought was over, and that it was raining. Oh, blessed
relief! But more terrors still he had to endure until at last
the ship drifted homeward--
"Oh, dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
"We drifted o'er the Harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray--
'O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.'"
The shop had indeed reached home, but in the harbor it suddenly
sank like lead. Only the Mariner was saved.
When once more he came to land, he told his tale to a holy hermit
and was shriven, but ever and anon afterward an agony comes upon
him and forces him to tell the tale again, even as he has just
done to the wedding guest. And thus he ends his story--
"He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God, who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
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