They dashed down the stream like a terrified steed;
The surges delight them, no terrors affright them,
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 downwards they’re dashing, each fearless eye flashing,
Though danger awaits them on every side;
Yon rock—see it frowning! they strike—they are drowning!