। ॥ ७५ ॥
In plain words
Your milk, daughter of the mountain — I think it is an ocean of milk, brimming up out of your heart, the very flood of Sarasvatī. You gave it, all compassion, and the Dravidian child tasted it and became a poet lovely even among the masters.
Close to the Sanskrit
Your breast-milk, O daughter of the earth-bearing mountain, I consider to be an ocean of milk that overflows from your heart, like the very flood of Sarasvatī. For, having tasted what was given by you who are full of compassion, the Dravidian child became a lovely maker of poems among accomplished poets.