text_original: Godlike the force of my young Congreve's bays, Softening the Muse's thunder into praise; Sent to assist an old unvanquish'd pride That looks with scorn on half mankind beside; A pride that well suspends poor mortals' fate, Gets between them and my resentment's weight, Stands in the gap 'twixt me and wretched men, T'avert th'impending judgments of my pen.
text_transcription: GOD LIKE THE FORCE OF MY YOUNG CONGREAVES BAYS SOFTENING THE MUSES THUNDER INTO PRAISE SENT TO ASSIST AN OLD UNVANQUISH'D PRIDE THAT LOOKS WITH SCORN ON HALF MANKIND BESIDE A PRIDE THAT WELL SUSPENDS POOR MORTAL'S FATE GETS BETWEEN THEM AND MY RESENTMENT'S WAIT STANDS IN THE GAP TWIXT ME AND WRETCHED MEN DIVERT THE IMPENDING JUDGMENTS OF MY PEN
phonemes: ɡˈɑːdlaɪk ðə fˈɔːɹs ʌv maɪ jˈʌŋ kˈɑːŋɡɹɛvz bˈeɪz, sˈɔfənɪŋ ðə mjˈuːzᵻz θˈʌndɚɹ ˌɪntʊ pɹˈeɪz; sˈɛnt tʊ ɐsˈɪst ɐn ˈoʊld ʌnvˈæŋkwɪʃd pɹˈaɪd ðæt lˈʊks wɪð skˈɔːɹn ˌɔn hˈæf mæŋkˈaɪnd bᵻsˈaɪd; ɐ pɹˈaɪd ðæt wˈɛl səspˈɛndz pˈʊɹ mˈɔːɹɾəlz fˈeɪt, ɡˈɛts bᵻtwˌiːn ðˌɛm ænd maɪ ɹᵻzˈɛntmənts wˈeɪt, stˈændz ɪnðə ɡˈæp twˈɪkst mˌiː ænd ɹˈɛtʃᵻd mˈɛn, tˈiːˈævɜːt tˌiːˈeɪtʃˈɪmpɛndɪŋ dʒˈʌdʒmənts ʌv maɪ pˈɛn.