The Marquis then mounted a led horse, which was held by one of his attendants, and rode on to view the scene of his victory, which was more decisive than even his ardent hopes had anticipated.  Of Argyle’s gallant army of three thousand men, fully one-half fell in the battle, or in the flight.  They had been chiefly driven back upon that part of the plain where the river forms an angle with the lake, so that there was no free opening either for retreat or escape.  Several hundreds were forced into the lake and drowned.  Of the survivors, about one-half escaped by swimming the river, or by an early flight along the left bank of the lake.  The remainder threw themselves into the old Castle of Inverlochy; but being without either provisions or hopes of relief, they were obliged to surrender, on condition of being suffered to return to their homes in peace.  Arms, ammunition, standards, and baggage, all became the prey of the conquerors.

This was the greatest disaster that ever befell the race of Diarmid, as the Campbells were called in the Highlands; it being generally remarked that they were as fortunate in the issue of their undertakings, as they were sagacious in planning, and courageous in executing them.  Of the number slain, nearly five hundred were dunniwassels, or gentlemen claiming descent from known and respected houses.  And, in the opinion of many of the clan, even this heavy loss was exceeded by the disgrace arising from the inglorious conduct of their Chief, whose galley weighed anchor when the day was lost, and sailed down the lake with all the speed to which sails and oars could impel her.

CHAPTER XX.

     Faint the din of battle bray’d,
     Distant down the hollow wind;
     War and terror fled before,
     Wounds and death remain’d behind.—­Penrose.

Montrose’s splendid success over his powerful rival was not attained without some loss, though not amounting to the tenth of what he inflicted.  The obstinate valour of the Campbells cost the lives of many brave men of the opposite party; and more were wounded, the Chief of whom was the brave young Earl of Menteith, who had commanded the centre.  He was but slightly touched, however, and made rather a graceful than a terrible appearance when he presented to his general the standard of Argyle, which he had taken from the standard-bearer with his own hand, and slain him in single combat.  Montrose dearly loved his noble kinsman, in whom there was conspicuous a flash of the generous, romantic, disinterested chivalry of the old heroic times, entirely different from the sordid, calculating, and selfish character, which the practice of entertaining mercenary troops had introduced into most parts of Europe, and of which degeneracy Scotland, which furnished soldiers of fortune for the service of almost every nation, had been contaminated with a more than usual share.  Montrose, whose