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 Frederic 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 Conferences de Saint-Vincent de Paul, and whom he so often visited in their wretched lodgings; but let him at least dwell a little longer in his home, that he may see his daughter grow up, and pass a few years more with the companion of his choice.  Finally, he is impassioned by his Faith, he no longer reasons with Heaven, but says:  “Take all according to Thy wish, take all, take myself.  Thy will be done....”

Rarely has the drama of acceptance of the Divine Will been more freely developed.  Now, in the drama which was to impassion Guynemer even to complete sacrifice, it is not the vocation of aviator that we should remark, but the absolute will to serve.  Abbe Chesnais, who does not attach primary importance to the vocation, has understood this well.  At the end of his notes he reminds us that Guynemer was a believer who accomplished his religious exercises regularly, without ostentation and without weakness.  “How many times he has stopped me at night,” he writes, “as I passed near his bed!  He wanted a quiet conscience, without reproach.  His usual frivolity left him at the door of the chapel.  He believed in the presence of God in this holy place and respected it....  His Christian sentiments were to be a sustaining power in his aerial battles, and he would fight with the more ardor if his conscience were at peace with his God....”