text_original: —Patrols of the newborn National Guard, bearing torches, scour the streets, all that night; which otherwise are vacant, yet illuminated in every window by order. Strange looking; like some naphtha lighted City of the Dead, with here and there a flight of perturbed Ghosts.
text_transcription: PATROLS OF THE NEWBORN NATIONAL GUARD BEARING TORCHES SCOUR THE STREETS ALL THAT NIGHT WHICH OTHERWISE ARE VACANT YET ILLUMINATED IN EVERY WINDOW BY ORDER STRANGE LOOKING LIKE SOME NAPHTHAL LIGHTED CITY OF THE DEAD WITH HERE AND THERE A FLIGHT OF PERTURBED GHOSTS
phonemes: —pɐtɹˈoʊlz ʌvðə nˈuːbɔːɹn nˈæʃənəl ɡˈɑːɹd, bˈɛɹɪŋ tˈɔːɹtʃᵻz, skˈaʊɚ ðə stɹˈiːts, ˈɔːl ðæt nˈaɪt; wˌɪtʃ ˈʌðɚwˌaɪz ɑːɹ vˈeɪkənt, jˈɛt ɪlˈuːmᵻnˌeɪɾᵻd ɪn ˈɛvɹi wˈɪndoʊ baɪ ˈɔːɹdɚ. stɹˈeɪndʒ lˈʊkɪŋ; lˈaɪk sˌʌm nˈæfθə lˈaɪɾᵻd sˈɪɾi ʌvðə dˈɛd, wɪð hˈɪɹ ɐnd ðˈɛɹ ɐ flˈaɪt ʌv pɚtˈɜːbd ɡˈoʊsts.