। ॥ ४२ ॥
In plain words
The darkness of your braids gathers close around you, Mṛḍānī, and in one instant it has taken the sun's own disc prisoner — that captured disc is the jewel at your crown. To that head of yours we bow.
Close to the Sanskrit
Bearing that crest-jewel which is, as it were, the disc of the sun taken captive in an instant by the darknesses of the braided hair that take refuge in you — O Mṛḍānī, we bow to that highest limb, your head.