Pleased with their praises as they sang, Again through fields of air he sprang, And now, his travail wellnigh done, The distant shore was almost won. Before him on the margent stood In long dark line a waving wood, And the fair island, bright and green With flowers and trees, was clearly seen, And every babbling brook that gave Her lord the sea a tribute wave.

In plain words: Happy with their praise, Hanuman flies on and nearly reaches the far shore. He sees a dark line of forest and the green island of Lanka, full of flowers, trees and streams.