A sincerely religious man, Blackmore was offended with the gross licentiousness of the drama, and all those productions of the poets which constituted the light literature of the eighteenth century. To his eternal honour, Blackmore was the first man who had the courage to raise his voice against the evil, and give utterance to a manly indignation at the insults offered nightly in every theatre to public decency. Unskilled in the use of the pen, of an age when he could not hope to perfect himself in an art to which he had not in youth systematically trained himself, and immersed in the cares of an extensive practice, he set himself to work on the production of a poem, which should elevate and instruct, not vitiate and deprave youthful readers. In this spirit "Prince Arthur" was composed and published in 1695, when the author was between forty and fifty years of age. It was written, as he frankly acknowledged, "by such catches and starts, and in such occasional uncertain hours as his profession afforded, and for the greatest part in coffee-houses, or in passing up and down streets." The wits laughed at him for writing "to the rumbling of his chariot-wheels," but at this date, ridicule thrown on a man for doing good at odd scraps of a busy day, has a close similarity to the laughter of fools. Let any reader compare the healthy gentlemanlike tone of the preface to "Prince Arthur," with the mean animosity of all the virulent criticisms and sarcasms that were directed against the author and his works, and then decide on which side truth and good taste lie. Blackmore made the fatal error of writing too much. His long poems wearied the patience of those who sympathized with his goodness of intention. What a list there is of them, in Swift's inscription, "to be put under Sir Richard's picture!" "See, who ne'er was, or will be half read, Who first sung Arthur, then sung Alfred,[7] Praised great Eliza[8] in God's anger, Till all true Englishmen cried, hang her! . . . . . Then hiss'd from earth, grown heavenly quite, Made every reader curse the light.[9] Mauled human wit in one thick satire;[10] Next, in three books, spoil'd human nature;[11] Ended Creation[12] at a jerk, And of Redemption[13] made damn'd work: Then took his muse at once, and dipp'd her Full in the middle of the Scripture. What wonders there the man grown old did! Sternhold himself he out-sternholded; Made David[14] seem so mad and freakish, All thought him just what thought king Achish. No mortal read his Solomon,[15] But judged R'oboam his own son. Moses[16] he served, as Moses Pharaoh, And Deborah as she Sisera: Made Jeremy[17] full sore to cry, And Job[18] himself curse God and die." [7] Two heroic Poems, folio, twenty books. [8] An heroic Poem, in twelve books. [9] Hymn to Light. [10] Satire against Wit. [11] Of the Nature of Man.