text_original: IX Sing, beloved Muse! the pleasures of retreat, And in some untouch'd virgin strain, Show the delights thy sister Nature yields; Sing of thy vales, sing of thy woods, sing of thy fields; Go, publish o'er the plain How mighty a proselyte you gain!
text_transcription: SING BELOVED MUSE THE PLEASURES OF RETREAT AND IN SOME UNTOUCHED VIRGIN STRAIN SHOW THE DELIGHTS THY SISTER NATURE YIELDS SING OF THY VEILS SING OF THY WOODS SING OF THY FIELDS GO PUBLISH O'ER THE PLAIN HOW MIGHTY A PROSELYTE YOU GAIN
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən nˈaɪn sˈɪŋ, bᵻlˈʌvd mjˈuːz! ðə plˈɛʒɚz ʌv ɹᵻtɹˈiːt, ænd ɪn sˌʌm ʌntˈʌtʃd vˈɜːdʒɪn stɹˈeɪn, ʃˈoʊ ðə dᵻlˈaɪts ðˌaɪ sˈɪstɚ nˈeɪtʃɚ jˈiːldz; sˈɪŋ ʌv ðˌaɪ vˈeɪlz, sˈɪŋ ʌv ðˌaɪ wˈʊdz, sˈɪŋ ʌv ðˌaɪ fˈiːldz; ɡˈoʊ, pˈʌblɪʃ ˈɔːɹ ðə plˈeɪn hˌaʊ mˈaɪɾi ɐ pɹˈɑːslaɪt juː ɡˈeɪn!