text_original: XXIV. TO HESTIA (ll. 1 5) Hestia, you who tend the holy house of the lord Apollo, the Far shooter at goodly Pytho, with soft oil dripping ever from your locks, come now into this house, come, having one mind with Zeus the all wise—draw near, and withal bestow grace upon my song.
text_transcription: TO HESTIA HESTIA YOU WHO TEND THE HOLY HOUSE OF THE LORD APOLLO THE FAR SHOOTER AT GOODLY PYTHO WITH SOFT OIL DRIPPING EVER FROM YOUR LOCKS COME NOW INTO THIS HOUSE COME HAVING ONE MIND WITH ZEUS THE ALL WISE DRAW NEAR AND WITHAL BESTOW GRACE UPON MY SONG
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən twˈɛnti fˈɔːɹ. tuː hˈɛstʃə (ˌɛlˈɛl. wˈʌn fˈaɪv) hˈɛstʃə, juː hˌuː tˈɛnd ðə hˈoʊli hˈaʊs ʌvðə lˈɔːɹd ɐpˈɑːloʊ, ðə fˈɑːɹ ʃˈuːɾɚɹ æt ɡˈʊdli pˈaɪθoʊ, wɪð sˈɔft ˈɔɪl dɹˈɪpɪŋ ˈɛvɚ fɹʌm jʊɹ lˈɑːks, kˈʌm nˈaʊ ˌɪntʊ ðɪs hˈaʊs, kˈʌm, hˌævɪŋ wˈʌn mˈaɪnd wɪð zˈuːs ðɪ ˈɔːl wˈaɪz—dɹˈɔː nˈɪɹ, ænd wɪðˈæl bᵻstˈoʊ ɡɹˈeɪs əpˌɑːn maɪ sˈɔŋ.