Their voices keep pace with their quickening speed:
“Hurrah for the Rapid! that merrily, merrily
Shivers its arrows against us in play;
Now we have entered it, cheerily, cheerily,
Our spirits as light as its feathery spray.”
Fast downward they’re dashing, each fearless eye flashing,
Though danger awaits them on every side;
Yon rock—see it frowning! they strike—they are drowning!
But downward they speed with the merciless tide.
No voice cheers the Rapid, that angrily, angrily