The Rapid. St. Lawrence.

All peacefully gliding,             The waters dividing,     The indolent btteau moved slowly along,             The rowers, light-hearted,             From sorrow long parted,     Beguiled the dull moments with laughter and song:         "Hurrah for the Rapid! that merrily, merrily         Gambols and leaps on its tortuous way;         Soon we will enter it, cheerily, cheerily,         Pleased with its freshness, and wet with its spray."             More swiftly careering,             The wild Rapid nearing,     They dash 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 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         Shivers their bark in its maddening play;         Gaily they entered it - heedlessly recklessly,         Mingling their lives with its treacherous spray!