text_original: Then one day, when I looked into the chamber, I saw the poor maiden sitting, with her head hanging down, as if 'twas too heavy for her, on a high backed chair, no rest for her feet, and the wind blowing keen all round her, and nothing to taste but scorched beef, or black bread and sour wine, and her mother rating her for foolish fancies that gave trouble.
text_transcription: THEN ONE DAY WHEN I LOOKED INTO THE CHAMBER I SAW THE POOR MAIDEN SITTING WITH HER HEAD HANGING DOWN AS IF TWAS TOO HEAVY FOR HER ON A HIGH BACKED CHAIR NO REST FOR HER FEET AND THE WIND BLOWING KEEN ALL AROUND HER AND NOTHING TO TASTE BUT SCORCHED BEEF OR BLACK BREAD AND SOUR WINE AND HER MOTHER WAITING HER FOR FOOLISH FANCIES IT GAVE TROUBLE
phonemes: ðˈɛn wˈʌn dˈeɪ, wˌɛn aɪ lˈʊkt ˌɪntʊ ðə tʃˈeɪmbɚ, aɪ sˈɔː ðə pˈʊɹ mˈeɪdən sˈɪɾɪŋ, wɪð hɜː hˈɛd hˈæŋɪŋ dˈaʊn, æz ɪf twˈɑːz tˈuː hˈɛvi fɔːɹ hɜː, ˌɔn ɐ hˈaɪ bˈækt tʃˈɛɹ, nˈoʊ ɹˈɛst fɔːɹ hɜː fˈiːt, ænd ðə wˈɪnd blˈoʊɪŋ kˈiːn ˈɔːl ɹˈaʊnd hɜː, ænd nˈʌθɪŋ tə tˈeɪst bˌʌt skˈɔːɹtʃt bˈiːf, ɔːɹ blˈæk bɹˈɛd ænd sˈaʊɚ wˈaɪn, ænd hɜː mˈʌðɚ ɹˈeɪɾɪŋ hɜː fɔːɹ fˈuːlɪʃ fˈænsiz ðæt ɡˈeɪv tɹˈʌbəl.