text_original: Woe for him, the valorous one, Now a silent clod of clay! Nevermore for him the sun Would make glad the paths of day; Yet 'twere better thus to die Than to cringe to tyranny!
text_transcription: WOE FOR HIM THE VALOROUS ONE NOW A SILENT CLOD OF CLAY NEVER MORE FOR HIM THE SUN WOULD MAKE GLAD THE PATHS OF DAY YET WERE BETTER THUS TO DIE THAN TO CRINGE TO TYRANNY
phonemes: wˈoʊ fɔːɹ hˌɪm, ðə vˈælɚɹəs wˌʌn, nˈaʊ ɐ sˈaɪlənt klˈɑːd ʌv klˈeɪ! nˌɛvɚmˈɔːɹ fɔːɹ hˌɪm ðə sˈʌn wʊd mˌeɪk ɡlˈæd ðə pˈæθs ʌv dˈeɪ; jˈɛt twˈɪɹ bˈɛɾɚ ðˈʌs tə dˈaɪ ðɐn tə kɹˈɪndʒ tə tˈɪɹəni!