text_original: Yet for Isola there was no grave in Eome so fraught with spiritual thoughts as Shelley's grave, no sweeter memory 252 All along the River, associated with the eternal city than the memory of his wanderings and meditations amidst the ruined walls of the Baths of Caracalla, where his young genius drank in the poetry of the long past, and fed upon the story of the antique dead.
text_transcription: YET FOR ISOLA THERE WAS NO GRAVE IN ROME SO FRAUGHT WITH SPIRITUAL THOUGHTS AS SHELLEY'S GRAVE NO SWEETER MEMORY ASSOCIATED WITH THE ETERNAL CITY THAN THE MEMORY OF HIS WANDERINGS AND MEDITATIONS AMIDST THE RUINED WALLS OF THE BATHS OF CARACALLA WHERE HIS YOUNG GENIUS DRANK IN THE POETRY OF THE LONG PAST AND FED UPON THE STORY OF THE ANTIQUE DEAD
phonemes: jˈɛt fɔːɹ aɪsˈoʊlə ðɛɹwˌʌz nˈoʊ ɡɹˈeɪv ɪn ˈiːɑːm sˌoʊ fɹˈɔːt wɪð spˈɪɹɪtʃˌuːəl θˈɔːts æz ʃˈɛliz ɡɹˈeɪv, nˈoʊ swˈiːɾɚ mˈɛmɚɹi tˈuːhˈʌndɹɪd fˈɪfti tˈuː ˈɔːl ɐlˈɔŋ ðə ɹˈɪvɚ, ɐsˈoʊsɪˌeɪɾᵻd wɪððɪ ɪtˈɜːnəl sˈɪɾi ðɐn ðə mˈɛmɚɹi ʌv hɪz wˈɔndɚɹɪŋz ænd mˌɛdɪtˈeɪʃənz ɐmˈɪdst ðə ɹˈuːɪnd wˈɔːlz ʌvðə bˈæθs ʌv kˈæɹɐkˌælə, wˌɛɹ hɪz jˈʌŋ dʒˈiːnɪəs dɹˈæŋk ɪnðə pˈoʊɪtɹi ʌvðə lˈɔŋ pˈæst, ænd fˈɛd əpˌɑːn ðə stˈɔːɹi ʌvðɪ æntˈiːk dˈɛd.