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The mysterious mother, or Countess of Narbonne. - by Mr Walpole. Florian [[underline]] Act 1st Scene 1st [[/underline]] What awful silence! how these antique Towers And vacant courts chill the suspended soul, Till expectation wears the cast of fear And fear half ready to become devotion Mumbles a kind of mental Orison It knows not wherefore. What a kind of being Is circumstance! I am a Soldier, and were yonder battlements Garnish'd with combatants, and cannon mounted my daring breast would bound with exultation And glorious hope; enliven this drear scene Now dare not, I scarce tread ˄ [[addition]] to [[/addition]] my own hearing Lest Echo, borrow Superstition's tongue And seem to answer me, like one departed. I met a Peasant, and enquir'd my way,
