text_original: Hail, queen of Britain, queen of rhymes! Be sung ten hundred thousand times; Too happy were the poets' crew, If their own happiness they knew: Three syllables did never meet So soft, so sliding, and so sweet: Nine other tuneful words like that Would prove even Homer's numbers flat.
text_transcription: HALE QUEEN OF BRITAIN QUEEN OF RHYMES BE SUNG TEN HUNDRED THOUSAND TIMES TOO HAPPY WERE THE POETS CREW IF THEIR OWN HAPPINESS THEY KNEW THREE SYLLABLES DID NEVER MEET SO SOFT SO SLIDING END SO SWEET NINE OTHER TUNEFUL WORDS LIKE THAT WOULD PROVE EVEN HOMER'S NUMBERS FLAT
phonemes: hˈeɪl, kwˈiːn ʌv bɹˈɪtən, kwˈiːn ʌv ɹˈaɪmz! biː sˈʌŋ tˈɛn hˈʌndɹɪd θˈaʊzənd tˈaɪmz; tˈuː hˈæpi wɜː ðə pˈoʊɪts kɹˈuː, ɪf ðɛɹ ˈoʊn hˈæpɪnəs ðeɪ nˈuː: θɹˈiː sˈɪləbəlz dˈɪd nˈɛvɚ mˈiːt sˌoʊ sˈɔft, sˌoʊ slˈaɪdɪŋ, ænd sˌoʊ swˈiːt: nˈaɪn ˈʌðɚ tˈuːnfəl wˈɜːdz lˈaɪk ðæt wʊd pɹˈuːv ˈiːvən hˈoʊmɚz nˈʌmbɚz flˈæt.