In plain words
The poet, of the hill Gōvardhana: The hill with which Nārāyaṇa warded off the face of the storm, like a man who raises a shield as the foe presses in to do harm, when the great water-laden clouds, massed in many ranks as on a field of battle, poured a rain of arrows and raised an uproar everywhere: that hill, where fierce tigers with killing mouths go in among the great sages of penance dwelling in their leaf-thatched huts, have their necks scratched, and sleep standing there, is Gōvardhana, the victorious umbrella.