In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Araṅgam: Śiva, in whose matted hair a woman [Gaṅgā] moves, and Brahmā did penance for ages upon ages beyond count to see you, and they stand ashamed; while the eternal attendants [nityasūris] in heaven marvelled, you came that day and gave your grace to an elephant. O you who have no eyes [for the faults of those who rely on you], how is it that people think of you as the refuge of all [when you take the side of those who hold to you alone]?