text_original: And Isabelle toils o'er the Alps, Through fields of ice and snow, To see the lofty glaciers Flash in the sun's red glow. I feel no cold, and yet on high Their shining spires I see.
text_transcription: AND ISABEL TOILS O'ER THE ALPS THROUGH FIELDS OF ICE AND SNOW TO SEE THE LOFTY GLACIERS FLASH IN THE SUN'S RED GLOW I FEEL NO COLD AND YET ON HIGH THEIR SHINING SPIRES I SEE
phonemes: ænd ˌɪseɪbˈɛl tˈɔɪlz ˈɔːɹ ðɪ ˈælps, θɹuː fˈiːldz ʌv ˈaɪs ænd snˈoʊ, tə sˈiː ðə lˈɔfti ɡlˈeɪʃɚz flˈæʃ ɪnðə sˈʌnz ɹˈɛd ɡlˈoʊ. aɪ fˈiːl nˈoʊ kˈoʊld, ænd jˈɛt ˌɔn hˈaɪ ðɛɹ ʃˈaɪnɪŋ spˈaɪɚz aɪ sˈiː.