Here at ʿAyn al-Fīǧā one is at a loss which most to admire — the great quantity of water that bursts from beneath this ruined platform, cold and beautifully clear, or the rushing, roaring cataract, foaming and tumbling over the rocks as it plunges down its narrow channel; or the thick forest of tall trees, willows and walnuts, sycamores, plane and poplars, that overshadow the banks, or the magnificent cliffs that rise a thousand feet or more and shut in this happy vale on every side. Each in turn delight the eye of the beholder and captivate the imagination.
ʿAyn al-Fīǧā, though not the most distant, is by far the most copious source of the Baradā. Arab geographers, however, regarded it as the fountain-head of the river of Damascus. That is hardly correct, for the upper Baradā drains the entire mountains and valleys of this part of Anti-Lebanon for more than twenty miles, and during the rainy season it is a formidable river, altogether independent of its auxiliary from ʿAyn al-Fīǧā. This fountain bursts out from a cavern under the mountain that has two openings, one of which is partly arched over, and in winter the volume of water is twice the size of that in the upper Baradā.
ʿAyn al-Fīǧā, though not the most distant, is by far the most copious source of the Baradā. Arab geographers, however, regarded it as the fountain-head of the river of Damascus. That is hardly correct, for the upper Baradā drains the entire mountains and valleys of this part of Anti-Lebanon for more than twenty miles, and during the rainy season it is a formidable river, altogether independent of its auxiliary from ʿAyn al-Fīǧā. This fountain bursts out from a cavern under the mountain that has two openings, one of which is partly arched over, and in winter the volume of water is twice the size of that in the upper Baradā.
Escaping from the cavern, it rushes down over and amongst the rocks, and through a perfect forest of walnut, poplar, and other trees, with the impetuosity of a roaring torrent, and then expands into a broad stream, clear as crystal. A hundred paces farther on it joins the Baradā, and the two streams run side by side for some distance, until the limpid waters of ʿAyn al-Fīǧā are finally merged into the turbid stream of the Baradā.
Above the cavern is an ancient platform, built of large and massive stones, and upon it are the remains of a small temple, about thirty feet square; but it now has neither portico nor columns. Below the platform, and to the right of the cavern, there appears to have been another temple constructed over a heavy vault, through which the stream from the fountain may have been conducted. The side-walls or piers supporting the vault are nearly forty feet long and six feet thick. The rear wall rested against the bank, and was about thirty feet long and four feet thick. It had an opening as if to receive the water from the fountain, and there is a similar opening towards the front, apparently for the stream to flow out. These ancient structures were perhaps dedicated to the god of fountains and streams and overshadowing groves.
More than half of our day's ride still remains to be accomplished, and it is time for us to proceed on our way.
More than half of our day's ride still remains to be accomplished, and it is time for us to proceed on our way.
I should like to spend days here instead of hours.
No doubt; and yet, like the first Paradise, this one has its serpent. Fever and ague lurk about it and infest its groves. Owing to the superabundance of water, and the dense foliage and the rank vegetation, ʿAyn al-Fīǧā is decidedly unhealthy in summer and autumn. I have been struck, while passing up the valley in October, with the sallow countenances of the natives. It is then not safe to sleep a single night at that glorious fountain.
William McClure Thomson, The Land and the Book, Vol. III, Lebanon, Damascus, and Beyond Jordan. Harper1886 (p. 352-354).

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