Richard Burke, the adored centre of all his father's hopes and affections, was seized with illness and died (August 1794).

We cannot look without tragic emotion on the pathos of the scene, which left the remnant of the old man's days desolate and void.

A Roman poet has described in touching words the woe of the aged Nestor, as he beheld the funeral pile of his son, too untimely slain-- Oro parumper Attendas quantum de legibus ipse queratur Fatorum et nimio de stamine, quum videt acris Antilochi barbam ardentem: quum quaerit ab omni Quisquis adest socius, cur haec in tempora duret, Quod facinus dignum tam longo admiserit aevo.
Burke's grief finds a nobler expression.

"The storm has gone over me, and I lie like one of those old oaks which the late hurricane has scattered about me.

I am stripped of all my honours; I am torn up by the roots and lie prostrate on the earth....