text_original: What though, for fifteen years and more, Janus has lock'd his temple door; Though not a coffeehouse we read in Has mention'd arms on this side Sweden; Nor London Journals, nor the Postmen, Though fond of warlike lies as most men; Thou still with battles stuff thy head full: For, must thy hero not be dreadful?
text_transcription: WHAT THOUGH FOR FIFTEEN YEARS AND MORE GENUS HAS LOCKED HIS TEMPLE DOOR THOUGH NOT A COFFEE HOUSE WE READ IN HAS MENTION'D ARMS ON THIS SIDE SWEDEN NOR LONDON JOURNALS NOR THE POSTMAN THOUGH FOND OF WARLIKE LIES AS MOST MEN FOR STILL WITH BATTLES STUFF THY HEAD FULL FOR MUST THY HERO NOT BE DREADFUL
phonemes: wˌʌt ðˌoʊ, fɔːɹ fˈɪftiːn jˈɪɹz ænd mˈɔːɹ, dʒˈænəs hɐz lˈɑːkd hɪz tˈɛmpəl dˈɔːɹ; ðˌoʊ nˌɑːɾə kˈɔfihˌaʊs wiː ɹˈiːd ɪn hɐz mˈɛnʃənd ˈɑːɹmz ˌɔn ðɪs sˈaɪd swˈiːdən; nˈɔːɹ lˈʌndən dʒˈɜːnəlz, nˈɔːɹ ðə pˈoʊstmɛn, ðˌoʊ fˈɑːnd ʌv wˈɔːɹlaɪk lˈaɪz æz mˈoʊst mˈɛn; ðˈaʊ stˈɪl wɪð bˈæɾəlz stˈʌf ðˌaɪ hˈɛd fˈʊl: fɔːɹ, mˈʌst ðˌaɪ hˈiəɹoʊ nˌɑːt biː dɹˈɛdfəl?