text_original: And dull and dead our Thames would be, For here the winds are chill and cold, O goat loot God of Arcady! Then keep the tomb of Helice, Thine olive woods, thy vine clad wold, And what remains to us of thee?
text_transcription: AND DULL AND DEAD OUR THAMES WOULD BE FOR HERE THE WINDS ARE CHILL AND COLD O GOADFOOT GOD OF ARCADEE THEN KEEP THE TOMB OF HELLESAY THINE OLIVE WOODS THY VINE CLAD WOLD AND WHAT REMAINS TO US OF THEE
phonemes: ænd dˈʌl ænd dˈɛd ˌaʊɚ tˈɛmz wʊd bˈiː, fɔːɹ hˈɪɹ ðə wˈɪndz ɑːɹ tʃˈɪl ænd kˈoʊld, ˈoʊ ɡˈoʊt lˈuːt ɡˈɑːd ʌv ˈɑːɹkædi! ðˈɛn kˈiːp ðə tˈuːm ʌv hˈɛlɪs, ðaɪn ˈɑːlɪv wˈʊdz, ðˌaɪ vˈaɪn klˈæd wˈoʊld, ænd wʌt ɹᵻmˈeɪnz tʊ ˌʌs ʌv ðˈiː?