text_original: "Take your horse," said Sir Bors, "for I shall not tarry long," and Sir Mador forthwith rode into the field with his shield on his shoulder, and his spear in his hand, and he went up and down crying unto King Arthur, "Bid your champion come forth if he dare."
text_transcription: TAKE YOUR HORSE SAID SIR BORS FOR I SHALL NOT TARRY LONG AND SIR MEDOR FORTHWITH RODE INTO THE FIELD WITH HIS SHIELD ON HIS SHOULDER AND HIS SPEAR IN HIS HAND AND HE WENT UP AND DOWN CRYING UNTO KING ARTHUR BID YOUR CHAMPION COME FORTH IF HE DARE
phonemes: "tˈeɪk jʊɹ hˈɔːɹs," sˈɛd sˌɜː bˈɔːɹz, "fɔːɹ aɪʃˌɐl nˌɑːt tˈæɹi lˈɔŋ," ænd sˌɜː mˈædɔːɹ fˈɔːɹθwɪθ ɹˈoʊd ˌɪntʊ ðə fˈiːld wɪð hɪz ʃˈiːld ˌɔn hɪz ʃˈoʊldɚ, ænd hɪz spˈɪɹ ɪn hɪz hˈænd, ænd hiː wɛnt ˌʌp ænd dˌaʊn kɹˈaɪɪŋ ˌʌntʊ kˈɪŋ ˈɑːɹθɚ, "bˈɪd jʊɹ tʃˈæmpiən kˈʌm fˈɔːɹθ ɪf hiː dˈɛɹ."