text_original: But, to the living and the struggling, a new, Fourteenth morning dawns. Under all roofs of this distracted City, is the nodus of a drama, not untragical, crowding towards solution. The bustlings and preparings, the tremors and menaces; the tears that fell from old eyes! This day, my sons, ye shall quit you like men. By the memory of your fathers' wrongs, by the hope of your children's rights!
text_transcription: TO THE LIVING AND THE STRUGGLING A NEW FOURTEENTH MORNING DAWNS UNDER ALL ROOFS OF THIS DISTRACTED CITY IS THE NOTICE OF A DRAMA NOT UNTRAGICAL CROWDING TOWARDS SOLUTION THE BUSTLING AND PREPARINGS THE TREMORS AND MENACES THE TEARS THAT FELL FROM OLD EYES THIS DAY MY SONS YOU SHALL QUIT YOU LIKE MEN BY THE MEMORY OF YOUR FATHER'S WRONGS BY THE HOPE OF YOUR CHILDREN'S RIGHTS
phonemes: bˌʌt, tə ðə lˈɪvɪŋ ænd ðə stɹˈʌɡlɪŋ, ɐ nˈuː, fˈɔːɹtiːnθ mˈɔːɹnɪŋ dˈɔːnz. ˌʌndɚɹ ˈɔːl ɹˈuːfs ʌv ðɪs dɪstɹˈæktᵻd sˈɪɾi, ɪz ðə nˈoʊdəs əvə dɹˈɑːmə, nˌɑːt ʌntɹˈædʒɪkəl, kɹˈaʊdɪŋ təwˈɔːɹdz səlˈuːʃən. ðə bˈʌslɪŋz ænd pɹɪpˈɛɹɪŋz, ðə tɹˈɛmɚz ænd mˈɛnɪsᵻz; ðə tˈɪɹz ðæt fˈɛl fɹʌm ˈoʊld ˈaɪz! ðɪs dˈeɪ, maɪ sˈʌnz, jiː ʃˌæl kwˈɪt juː lˈaɪk mˈɛn. baɪ ðə mˈɛmɚɹi ʌv jʊɹ fˈɑːðɚz ɹˈɔŋz, baɪ ðə hˈoʊp ʌv jʊɹ tʃˈɪldɹənz ɹˈaɪts!