During the imprisonment of King Charles I., at a time when active war on his behalf might do the unhappy monarch more harm than good, the gallant Montrose had retired to France. His bright military fame, his courteous manners, and manly bearing made him friends everywhere, and when he visited Germany the Emperor conferred on him the rank of Marshal. Hearing of the execution of Charles I., Montrose at once placed himself at the disposal of Charles II., now a fugitive in Holland. This prince named him Captain General of Scotland, and the daring hero set out for the Orkney Islands with about five hundred paid soldiers, mostly adventurous Germans and Dutchmen. Only a reckless spirit like Montrose would have undertaken so wild a commission. Scotland was heartily sick of war, and learnt with consternation of the arrival of this firebrand. Lesly was sent forward with four thousand men to attack Montrose’s five hundred! Colonel Strachan led the advanced guard, which fell unexpectedly upon the invading army, and, after a brief, fierce struggle, totally defeated it. Montrose, disguised as a peasant, entrusted his life to one he believed to be his friend, M’Leod, Laird of Assaint. But this unworthy man betrayed him to his bitterest enemy, General Lesly. Thus, at last, this brilliant commander was in the hands of the bitter Covenanters, into whose hearts his brilliant victories had once spread such terror. Their treatment of him is a black stain upon their memory. For days he was led about in the peasant’s disguise, which he had put on; he was carted through the streets of Edinburgh, accompanied by such insults that the populace cried shame upon his captors. When tried before the Scottish Parliament for treason, he made a most eloquent defence, one of the most notable of his assertions being that he had never stained his victories by slaughtering his foes in cold blood after the battle. In this he was far above his enemies, who had disgraced their victory of Philiphaugh by many an execution, and who were now bent upon taking the life of Montrose himself. The sentence against him was probably decided before his defence had been heard; it ran thus:— "That James Graham should next day be carried to Edinburgh cross and there hanged on a gibbet 30 feet high for the space of three hours; then to be taken down, his head to be struck off on a scaffold and affixed to the prison; his arms and legs to be stuck up on the four chief towns of the Kingdom, his body to be buried in the place set aside for common criminals." To this sentence the great Marquis haughtily replied that he would rather have his head so placed than his picture in the King’s bedchamber, and that he wished he had limbs enough to be dispersed into all the cities of Christendom, to prove his dying attachment to his king. And in the one evening of life that still remained to him, this accomplished and fearless nobleman employed his time in turning these loyal sentiments into verse.