Bosvvorth-field with a taste of the variety of other poems, left by Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet, deceased: set forth by his sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet; and dedicated to the Kings most Excellent Maiestie.

An act of Contrition.

WHen first my reason, dawning like the day, Disperst the clouds of childish sense away: Gods Image fram'd in that superior Tow'r, Diuinely drew mine vnderstanding pow'r To thinke vpon his Greatnesse, and to feare His darts of thunder, which the mountaines teare. And when with feeble light my soule began T' acknowledge him a higher thing then man, My next discourse erected by his grace, Conceiues him free from bounds of time or place, And sees the furthest that of him is knowne, All spring from him, and he depends of none. The steps which in his various workes are seal'd, The doctrines in his sacred Church reueal'd, Were all receiu'd as truths into my mind, Yet durst I breake his lawes, O strangely blind: My festring wounds are past the launcing cure, Which terrour giues to thoughts at first impure: No helpe remaines these vlcers to remoue, Vnlesse I scorch them with the flames of loue. Lord, from thy wrath my soule appeales, and flyes To gracious beames of those indulgent eyes,

Which brought me first from nothing, and sustaine My life, lest it to nothing turne againe, VVhich in thy Sonnes blood washt my parents sinne▪ And taught me waies eternall blisse to winne. The Starres which guide my Bark with heau'nly calls, My boords in shipwrack after many falls: In these I trust, and wing'd with pleasing hope, Attempt new flight to come to thee, my scope, VVhom I esteeme a thousand times more deare, Then worldly things which faire and sweet appeare. Rebellious flesh, which thee so oft offends, Presents her teares: alas, a poore amends, But thou accept'st them. Hence they precious grow, As liuing waters which from Eden flow. VVith these I wish my vitall blood may runne, Ere new Eclipses dimme this glorious Sunne: And yeeld my selfe afflicting paines to take For thee my Spouse, and onely for thy sake. Hell could not fright me with immortall fire, VVere it not arm'd with thy forsaking ire: Nor should I looke for comfort and delight In heau'n, if heau'n were shadow'd from thy sight.