In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: O you who grew tall and measured all seven worlds, O Spotless One, O Lord of all: you need not doubt [that I want other ends] in taking me, your servant, as your own. I do not want clothes and food from you; by that royal dignity called servitude they will come of themselves here and there, mark this, O you who killed cruel Kaṃsa and loosed the grip of the strong fetters bound on your father.