The pope understands well
That he can’t make peace
If the three aren’t assembled
The pope and him and the king;
To the king he commands to be in no way
Violent against the holy Church
The messengers come and go
Very angry and threatening.
When peace was made with honor
Between the Empire and holy Church*
And made so that the emperor
Both by strength and by prayers
Made of cities and treasure
Complete return and reparation
The pope leaves France,
Praying that God guard it
Which was for him a certain refuge
In his peril and trouble;
And when he goes on his way
The archbishop conducts him
As far as Bourges, the return
Because of this parting, sad and mournful.
The pope heads straight for Rome,
And blesses the archbishop
After this departure
Never saw him again in this life.
The archbishop repairs to Pontigny
To hide himself in surety
And leads a solitary life
In writing and study,
In fasting and prayer,
In vigil and contemplation
Where he learns much of scripture,
Because he applies care and understanding.
He doesn’t learn so much before many years [have gone by].
But  Satan has such envy,
The envious and stubborn,
That he’ll soon disturb this peace.
I’d like to know what may become of one
Who doesn’t know how to hold his peace?
It weighs much on the tyrant Henry
That the archbishop is so at ease,
Who goes without anyone confessing it;
From there, convent that he is chased from
To the chapter of the Cistercians
He [Henry] states they’re not loyal to him
Who to his mortal enemy
Give such solace and shelter.
“Who welcomes my enemy
Wishes no good nor honor to me;
Who aids my enemy
Distresses and does evil to me.”
If they [the Cistercians] don’t make amends
He’ll take from them with avarice
Their barns and houses,
Money and possessions
Of which they have much in England;
For loss they have only to do this.

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