text_original: Permit me then to raise my style, And sweetly moralize a while. Thee, bounteous goddess Cloacine, To temples why do we confine? Forbid in open air to breathe, Why are thine altars fix'd beneath?
text_transcription: PERMIT ME THEN TO RAISE MY STYLE AND SWEETLY MORALISE AWHILE THEE BOUNTEOUS GODDESS CLOA KINE TO TEMPLES WHY DO WE CONFINE FORBID IN OPEN AIR TO BREATHE WHY ARE THINE ALTARS FIX'D BENEATH
phonemes: pˈɜːmɪt mˌiː ðˈɛn tə ɹˈeɪz maɪ stˈaɪl, ænd swˈiːtli mˈɔːɹəlˌaɪz ɐ wˈaɪl. ðˈiː, bˈaʊntiəs ɡˈɑːdəs klˈoʊsiːn, tə tˈɛmpəlz wˌaɪ dˈuː wiː kənfˈaɪn? fɚbˈɪd ɪn ˈoʊpən ˈɛɹ tə bɹˈiːð, wˌaɪ ɑːɹ ðaɪn ˈɔltɚz fˈɪksd bᵻnˈiːθ?