text_original: How have I felt my spirits raised, By you so oft, so highly praised! Transform'd by your convincing tongue To witty, beautiful, and young, I hope to quit that awkward shame, Affected by each vulgar dame, To modesty a weak pretence; And soon grow pert on men of sense; To show my face with scornful air; Let others match it if they dare.
text_transcription: HOW HAVE I FELT MY SPIRITS RAISED BY YOU SO OFT SO HIGHLY PRAISED TRANSFORMED BY YOUR CONVINCING TONGUE TO WITTY BEAUTIFUL AND YOUNG I HOPE TO QUIT THAT AWKWARD SHAME AFFECTED BY EACH VULGAR DAME TO MODESTY A WEAK PRETENSE AND SOON GROW PERT ON MEN OF SENSE TO SHOW MY FACE WITH SCORNFUL AIR LET OTHERS MATCH IT IF THEY DARE
phonemes: hˌaʊ hæv aɪ fˈɛlt maɪ spˈɪɹɪts ɹˈeɪzd, baɪ juː sˌoʊ ˈɔft, sˌoʊ hˈaɪli pɹˈeɪzd! tɹænsfˈɔːɹmd baɪ jʊɹ kənvˈɪnsɪŋ tˈʌŋ tə wˈɪɾi, bjˈuːɾifəl, ænd jˈʌŋ, aɪ hˈoʊp tə kwˈɪt ðæt ˈɔːkwɚd ʃˈeɪm, ɐfˈɛktᵻd baɪ ˈiːtʃ vˈʌlɡɚ dˈeɪm, tə mˈɑːdəsti ɐ wˈiːk pɹˈiːtɛns; ænd sˈuːn ɡɹˈoʊ pˈɜːt ˌɔn mˈɛn ʌv sˈɛns; tə ʃˈoʊ maɪ fˈeɪs wɪð skˈɔːɹnfəl ˈɛɹ; lˈɛt ˈʌðɚz mˈætʃ ɪt ɪf ðeɪ dˈɛɹ.