text_original: But a swarthy cove by the water Blue bristled from point to base, With the breath of demons, bursting Through the crust of their prison place; And another beside it flaunted A thousand rags of red, Like the Plague King's dancing banners On a mound of the swollen dead.
text_transcription: BUT A SWARTHY COVE OF THE WATER BLUE BRISTLED FROM POINT TO BASE WITH THE BREATH OF DEMONS BURSTING THROUGH THE CRUST OF THEIR PRISON PLACE AND ANOTHER BESIDE IT FLAUNTED A THOUSAND RAGS OF RED LIKE THE PLAQUE'S DANCING BANNERS ON A MOUND OF THE SWOLLEN DEAD
phonemes: bˌʌt ɐ swˈɔːɹði kˈoʊv baɪ ðə wˈɔːɾɚ blˈuː bɹˈɪsəld fɹʌm pˈɔɪnt tə bˈeɪs, wɪððə bɹˈɛθ ʌv dˈiːmənz, bˈɜːstɪŋ θɹuː ðə kɹˈʌst ʌv ðɛɹ pɹˈɪzən plˈeɪs; ænd ɐnˈʌðɚ bᵻsˌaɪd ɪt flˈɔːntᵻd ɐ θˈaʊzənd ɹˈæɡz ʌv ɹˈɛd, lˈaɪk ðə plˈeɪɡ kˈɪŋz dˈænsɪŋ bˈænɚz ˌɔn ɐ mˈaʊnd ʌvðə swˈoʊlən dˈɛd.