The Brook And The Fountain Poem by Ignacy Krasicki

(An argosy of fables 1921/Polish fables)

A fountain varied gambols played
 Close by an humble Brook;
While gently murmuring through the glade,
⁠Its peaceful course it took.

Perhaps it gave one envious glance
⁠Upon the Fountain's height.
While glittering in the morning's rays,
⁠Pre-eminently bright.

In all the colours of the sky
⁠Alternately it shone:
The Brook observed with a sigh
⁠But quietly rolled on.

The owner of the Fountain died;
⁠Neglect soon brought decay:
The bursting pipes were ill-supplied:
⁠The Fountain ceased to play.

But still the Brook her peaceful course
⁠Continued to pursue;
Her ample, inexhaustive source
⁠From nature's fount she drew.

"Now, " said the Brook, "I bless my fate,
⁠My showy rival gone;
Contented in its native state
⁠My little stream rolls on.

And all the world has cause, indeed.
⁠To own, with grateful heart.
How much great Nature's work excels
⁠The feeble works of art."

Humble usefulness is preferable to idle splendour.

(From the Polish of Ignace Krasicki.)