It is a paraphrase of the reply of the gods to the young Pallas, in
Virgil.

[Footnote 12:
Fortunate hero! thou diest, but thou shalt live forever!
Come, my companions! strew flowers
And lilies over the tomb! violets and young roses
Scatter; heap up laurels upon his arms,
And on the stone write with the point of your sword:
Here lieth one who was the terror of the enemy, and the glory
Of the French, George, taken before his time.
Lachesis from his face thought him a boy,
But counting his victories she thought him full of years.]


This young Frédéric Ozanam died in the full vigor of manhood before
having attained his fortieth year, of a malady which had already
foretold his death. At that time he seemed to have achieved perfect
happiness; it was the supreme moment when everything succeeds, when the
difficult years are almost forgotten, and the road mounts easily upward.
He had in his wife a perfect companion, and his daughter was a lovable
young girl. His reputation was growing; he was soon to be received by
the Academy, and fortune and fame were already achieved. And then death
called him. Truly the hour was badly chosen--but when is it chosen at
the will of mortals? Ozanam tried to win pity from death. In his private
journal he notes death's approach, concerning which he was never
deceived; and he asks Heaven for a respite. To propitiate it, he offers
a part of his life, the most brilliant part; he is willing to renounce
honors, fame, and fortune, and will consent to live humbly and be
forgotten, like the poor for whom he founded the _Conférences de