full manfully,’[259] was captured without having struck a single blow. The most distinguished among the Scottish nobles, the earls of Cassilis and Glencairn, the Lords Somerville, Grey, and Oliphant, were seen laying down their arms. Maxwell found thus the fate which he had desired. These lords and gentlemen were sent to London and committed to the Tower. Two days after, Henry commanded that they should pass through the streets of London on foot, exposed thus as a spectacle to the populace,[260] like the captives who adorned the triumphs of Roman generals. When they arrived at the palace, they were received there by the Lord Chancellor, who addressed to them severe rebukes, accused them of having violated the faith of treaties, and extolled the goodness and clemency of Henry VIII., who assigned them various houses for their abode. [Sidenote: MURDER OF AN ENGLISH ENVOY.] During the battle, if such a word is to be used, James, who took good care to keep out of it, was concealed in his castle at Lochmaben, northeast of Dumfries.[261] There he was awaiting the issue of that famous expedition which was to be his title to glory. He had made sure of taking at the first blow the town of Carlisle, situated at a distance of some miles from the frontier, and formerly one of the principal military posts of the Romans, at which the wall of Hadrian terminated, and which had been more than once besieged and taken. Thence he hoped to pass on and reach York, and pay an _armed_ visit to his dear uncle there. He was expecting the tidings of his triumph, when some of the fugitives made known to him the total rout of his army. Overwhelmed with sudden fear and astonishment, he could hardly utter a word. It was night when he heard of his defeat, and not daring to venture before daylight into unknown, untrodden ways, he retired to bed, but without finding the least repose. His distress was unbounded. He experienced the most acute pangs, could hardly breathe, and only uttered some vague cries. The manner in which his unworthy favorite had deceived his expectation, his defeat and flight, disturbed him as much as the victory of the English. He got up, paced up and down in his chamber, uttered lamentations, and cried out--‘Oh, fled Oliver? Is Oliver taken? Oh, fled Oliver?’[262] He was attacked with a kind of catalepsy. The constant contemplation of that extraordinary defeat and of the conduct of that despicable man on whom he had rested his hopes had in some degree suspended sensation in him, and he lay as in a long and painful trance until his death, continually repeating, ‘Oh, fled Oliver?’