text_original: "Dost thou mourn that the shores of our Spain are fading from us?" said the lady to the supposed servant. "Not as I should once have done, my Beatriz; though it is still my fatherland, dearest and best of all lands to me. And you, my beloved?"
text_transcription: DOST THOU MOURN THAT THE SHORES OF OUR SPAIN ARE FADING FROM US SAID THE LADY TO THE SUPPOSED SERVANT NOT AS I SHOULD ONCE HAVE DONE MY BEATRICE THOUGH IT IS STILL MY FATHERLAND DEAREST AND BEST OF ALL LANDS TO ME AND YOU MY BELOVED
phonemes: "dˈɑːst ðˈaʊ mˈɔːɹn ðætðə ʃˈɔːɹz ʌv ˌaʊɚ spˈeɪn ɑːɹ fˈeɪdɪŋ fɹʌm ˌʌs?" sˈɛd ðə lˈeɪdi tə ðə səpˈoʊzd sˈɜːvənt. "nˌɑːt æz aɪ ʃˌʊd wˈʌns hæv dˈʌn, maɪ bˈiətɹɪz; ðˌoʊ ɪɾ ɪz stˈɪl maɪ fˈɑːðɜːlənd, dˈɪɹɪst ænd bˈɛst ʌv ˈɔːl lˈændz tə mˌiː. ænd juː, maɪ bᵻlˈʌvd?"