Following the escutcheons of the various Illyrian kingdoms come those of the nobility—there being no less than 126 families whose armorial bearings are blazoned in this book. How much is here to throw a light on the extension of Western ideas over the old Serbian area! How much to illustrate the national history, the national customs—aye, even the old Sclavonic mythology; how much to recall the origin of illustrious dynasties! I have spoken of the Némanjić ensigns; here, too, were the Castriotić, belonging to the family of Scanderbeg—again, a double-eagle, sable on or, and eagle crest to the helm—the arms of the royal house of Bosnia that was to be—the Tvartkoević shield semé of golden fleurs de lys. In many of the arms might be detected a curious play on words. The Kopiević arms, for example, had four lances, in allusion to the Bosnian word for a lance, _Kopje_. _Brzo_ is the native word for ‘quick,’ and the device of the Barzoevic family is a fish in water. More interesting still is the occasional cropping up of the heathen Sclavonic mythology—chiefly seen in the frequent appearance of _zmaje_ or dragons, who play so important a part in Serbian folk-lore; and—more fascinating than these fire-drakes—the Vila herself appears on the shield of the Mergnjavić—long-haired and devoid of raiment as in Serbian poetry: the guardian nymph of the race, holding aloft the eagle banner of empire. The book appropriately concluded with a shield charged with the armorial bearings of the united Bosnian Nobility; and the monks, with an enthusiasm worthy of record, pointed out the motto—read by the light of after events, not without its pathos—SEMPER SPERO. As this heraldic pageant passes before us—these knightly shields and helms, with their crests, supporters, and accoutrements—the imagination is kindled to realize how these isolated regions fitted once into the polity of mediæval Europe. Here, too, in these barbarous neglected lands, the romantic brilliance of chivalry has once held sway. For a moment the Paynim surroundings are forgotten—we wake, and find ourselves still within the limits of Christendom militant. We hear the herald’s trump. The barriers that to-day wall off Bosnia from the West sink at the potent blast like the towers of some Eastern magician. The names, the armorial bearings, recall the European cousin-hood of that hierarchy of birth. In due order among the escutcheons of Bosnian nobles appears the shield of the _Frangepani_; that of the Rusciević family reproduces the oriflamme of France: next in order, by a curious coincidence, follows that of the Sestrićić, strewn with Tudor roses.[220] Perhaps it would be impossible for any other monument to recall more vividly than this Book of Arms, at once the futile dreams of Serbian empire, the wreck of Bosnian kingship, and that dastardly abjuration by her nobles of country and belief.