In plain words
The poet, to his heart: O my heart, in our times of need there is no other help but him of the sharp arrows [Rāma], the Lord with eyes red as lotuses who took up the bow that had conquered Īśa [Śiva], and who destroyed the glory of Laṅkā, city of the ten-headed one [Rāvaṇa], whose heads stood close as a cluster and who would not bow to him and be saved.