text_original: Pearson, resolv'd to save the fleet, Stood off to sea, these ships to meet, And closely brac'd his shivering sails. With him advanc'd the Countess bold, Like a black tar in wars grown old: And now these floating piles drew nigh. But, muse, unfold what chief of fame In the other warlike squadron came, Whose standards at his mast head fly.
text_transcription: PEARSON RESOLV'D TO SAVE THE FLEET STOOD OFF TO SEA THESE SHIPS TO MEET AND CLOSELY BRACED HIS SHIVERING SAILS WITH HIM ADVANC'D THE COUNTESS BOLD LIKE A BLACK TARIAN WARS GROWN OLD NOW THESE FLOATING PILES DREW NIGH BUT MUSE UNFOLD WHAT CHIEF OF FAME AND THE OTHER WARLIKE SQUADRON CAME WHOSE STANDARDS AT HIS MAST HEADAD FLY
phonemes: pˈɪɹsən, ɹᵻzˈɑːlvd tə sˈeɪv ðə flˈiːt, stˈʊd ˈɔf tə sˈiː, ðiːz ʃˈɪps tə mˈiːt, ænd klˈoʊsli bɹˈækd hɪz ʃˈɪvɚɹɪŋ sˈeɪlz. wɪð hˌɪm ɐdvˈæŋkd ðə kˈaʊntɛs bˈoʊld, lˈaɪk ɐ blˈæk tˈɑːɹ ɪn wˈɔːɹz ɡɹˈoʊn ˈoʊld: ænd nˈaʊ ðiːz flˈoʊɾɪŋ pˈaɪlz dɹˈuː nˈaɪ. bˌʌt, mjˈuːz, ʌnfˈoʊld wʌt tʃˈiːf ʌv fˈeɪm ɪnðɪ ˈʌðɚ wˈɔːɹlaɪk skwˈɑːdɹən kˈeɪm, hˌuːz stˈændɚdz æt hɪz mˈæst hˈɛd flˈaɪ.