text_original: The advent'rous painter's fate and mine are one Who fain would draw the bright meridian sun; Majestic light his feeble art defies, And for presuming, robs him of his eyes. Then blame your power, that my inferior lays Sink far below your too exalted praise: Don't think we flatter, your applause to gain; No, we're sincere,  to flatter you were vain.
text_transcription: THE ADVENTUROUS PAINTER'S FATE AND MINE ARE ONE WHO FAIN WOULD DRAW THE BRIGHT MERIDIAN SUN MAJESTIC LIGHT HIS FEEBLE ART DEFIES AND FOR PRESUMING ROBS HIM OF HIS EYES THEN BLAME YOUR POWER THAT MY INFERIOR LAYS SINK FAR BELOW YOUR TOO EXALTED PRAISE DON'T THINK WE FLATTER YOUR APPLAUSE TO GAIN NO WERE SINCERE TO FLATTER YOU WERE VAIN
phonemes: ðɪ ˈædvɛntɹəs pˈeɪntɚz fˈeɪt ænd mˈaɪn ɑːɹ wˈʌn hˌuː fˈeɪn wʊd dɹˈɔː ðə bɹˈaɪt mɛɹˈɪdiən sˈʌn; mɐdʒˈɛstɪk lˈaɪt hɪz fˈiːbəl ˈɑːɹt dᵻfˈaɪz, ænd fɔːɹ pɹɪzˈuːmɪŋ, ɹˈɑːbz hˌɪm ʌv hɪz ˈaɪz. ðˈɛn blˈeɪm jʊɹ pˈaʊɚ, ðæt maɪ ɪnfˈɪɹiɚ lˈeɪz sˈɪŋk fˈɑːɹ bᵻlˌoʊ jʊɹ tˈuː ɛɡzˈɑːltᵻd pɹˈeɪz: dˈoʊnt θˈɪŋk wiː flˈæɾɚ, jʊɹ ɐplˈɔːz tə ɡˈeɪn; nˈoʊ, wɪɹ sɪnsˈɪɹ,  tə flˈæɾɚ juː wɜː vˈeɪn.