text_original: Beamed the sunlight fierce and torrid o'er the raging battle horrid, Till, in faint exhaustion sinking, death was looked on as a boon; Heat, and not a drop of water  heat, that won the race of slaughter, Fewer far with bullets dying than beneath the sun of June; Only ceased the terrible firing, with the Briton slow retiring, As the sunbeams in the west sank to rest.
text_transcription: BEAMED THE SUNLIGHT FIERCE AND TORRID O'ER THE RAGING BATTLE HORRID TILL IN FAINT EXHAUSTION SINKING DEATH WAS LOOKED ON AS A BOON HEAT AND NOT A DROP OF WATER HEAT THAT WON THE RACE OF SLAUGHTER FEWER FAR WITH BULLETS DYING THAN BENEATH THE SUN OF JUNE ONLY CEASED THE TERRIBLE FIRING WHEN THE BRITON SLOW RETIRING AS THE SUNBEAMS IN THE WEST SANK TO REST
phonemes: bˈiːmd ðə sˈʌnlaɪt fˈɪɹs ænd tˈɔɹɪd ˈɔːɹ ðə ɹˈeɪdʒɪŋ bˈæɾəl hˈɔːɹɪd, tˈɪl, ɪn fˈeɪnt ɛɡzˈɔːstʃən sˈɪŋkɪŋ, dˈɛθ wʌz lˈʊkt ˌɔn æz ɐ bˈuːn; hˈiːt, ænd nˌɑːɾə dɹˈɑːp ʌv wˈɔːɾɚ hˈiːt, ðæt wˈʌn ðə ɹˈeɪs ʌv slˈɔːɾɚ, fjˈuːɚ fˈɑːɹ wɪð bˈʊlɪts dˈaɪɪŋ ðɐn bᵻnˌiːθ ðə sˈʌn ʌv dʒˈuːn; ˈoʊnli sˈiːst ðə tˈɛɹᵻbəl fˈaɪɚɹɪŋ, wɪððə bɹˈɪtən slˈoʊ ɹᵻtˈaɪɚɹɪŋ, æz ðə sˈʌnbiːmz ɪnðə wˈɛst sˈæŋk tə ɹˈɛst.