Nor had the chieftain, mighty-armed, Lost the bright look all hearts that charmed, As e’en from autumn moons is thrown A splendour which is all their own. With his sweet voice the hero spoke Saluting all the gathered folk, Then righteous-souled and great in fame Close to his mother’s house he came.

In plain words: Rama has just lost his chance to be king, yet his face still shines like the autumn moon. He greets the crowd kindly in his gentle voice and walks to his mother's house.