However it came, this great house has gone down

Unconquered into chaos (as you might see

A famous ship warped to a rotting quay

In miles of weeds and rubbish, once a town.)

So the great house confronts the brutish aur,

And points its turrets towards the hidden sky,

While in the dark the flags of honour fly

Where faith and hope and bravery would not dare.

Accident did not do this, nor mischance.

But so must order to disorder come

At their due time, and honour take its stance

Deep in dishonour’s ground. Chaos is new,

And has no past or future. Praise the few

Who built in chaos our bastion and our home.