"A blood-red scutcheon with a white belt bound,
Which black spots chequer, though no stain is found:
Thus will the ermine strive a soil to shun,
On steel unsheath'd, and 'mid the flames will run:
Great strength of mind, a breast that knows not fear,
Fair Faith, and honour from all blemish clear:
These kindred qualities the Crawfurds own,--
In arts like these of yore their sires have shone."