text_original: Nor son, nor sire, these tigers spare,   The youth, and hoary head, Were by those monsters murdered there, And numbered with the dead. Methinks I hear some sprightly youth His mournful state condole: "Oh, that my tender parents knew The anguish of my soul! "But oh!
text_transcription: NOR SON NOR SIRE THESE TIGERS SPARE THE YOUTH AND HOARY HEAD WHEREBY THOSE MONSTERS MURDERED THERE AND NUMBERED WITH THE DEAD METHINKS I HEAR SOME SPRIGHTLY YOUTH HIS MOURNFUL STATE CONDOLE OH THAT MY TENDER PARENTS KNEW THE ANGUISH OF MY SOUL BUT OH
phonemes: nˈɔːɹ sˈʌn, nˈɔːɹ sˈaɪɚ, ðiːz tˈaɪɡɚz spˈɛɹ,   ðə jˈuːθ, ænd hˈɔːɹi hˈɛd, wɜː baɪ ðoʊz mˈɔnstɚz mˈɜːdɚd ðˈɛɹ, ænd nˈʌmbɚd wɪððə dˈɛd. miːθˈɪŋks aɪ hˈɪɹ sˌʌm spɹˈaɪtli jˈuːθ hɪz mˈɔːɹnfəl stˈeɪt kəndˈoʊl: "ˈoʊ, ðæt maɪ tˈɛndɚ pˈɛɹənts nˈuː ðɪ ˈæŋɡwɪʃ ʌv maɪ sˈoʊl! "bˌʌt ˈoʊ!