text_original: No wholesome Herb grows on the same, Or Bird of Day will on it rest; 'Tis Barren as the Hopeless Flame, That scortches my tormented Breast.
text_transcription: NO WHOLESOME HERB GROWS ON THE SAME OR BIRD OF DAY WILL ON IT REST TIS BARREN AS THE HOPELESS FLAME THAT SCORCHES MY TORMENTED BREAST
phonemes: nˈoʊ hˈoʊlsʌm ˈɜːb ɡɹˈoʊz ɔnðə sˈeɪm, ɔːɹ bˈɜːd ʌv dˈeɪ wɪl ˌɔn ɪt ɹˈɛst; tˈɪz bˈæɹən æz ðə hˈoʊpləs flˈeɪm, ðæt skˈɔːɹttʃᵻz maɪ tɔːɹmˈɛntᵻd bɹˈɛst.