text_original: VII. Uncertain Nature, like a fickle friend, (Worse than the foe on whom we may depend) Turned on these dauntless souls a brow of wrath And hurled her icy jav'lins in their path. With treacherous quicksands, and with storms that blight, Entrapped their footsteps and confused their sight.
text_transcription: SEVEN UNCERTAIN NATURE LIKE A FIGURE FRIEND WORSE THAN THE FOE ON WHOM WE MAY DEPEND TURNED ON THESE DAUNTLESS SOULS A BROW OF WRATH AND HURT HER ICY JAVELINS IN THEIR PATH WITH TREACHEROUS QUICKSANDS AND WITH STORMS THAT BLIGHT AND TRAPPED THEIR FOOTSTEPS AND CONFUSE THEIR SIGHT
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən sˈɛvən. ʌnsˈɜːʔn̩ nˈeɪtʃɚ, lˈaɪk ɐ fˈɪkəl fɹˈɛnd, (wˈɜːs ðɐn ðə fˈoʊ ˌɔn hˈuːm wiː mˈeɪ dᵻpˈɛnd) tˈɜːnd ˌɔn ðiːz dˈɔːntləs sˈoʊlz ɐ bɹˈaʊ ʌv ɹˈæθ ænd hˈɜːld hɜːɹ ˈaɪsi dʒˈævlɪnz ɪn ðɛɹ pˈæθ. wɪð tɹˈɛtʃɚɹəs kwˈɪksændz, ænd wɪð stˈɔːɹmz ðæt blˈaɪt, ɛntɹˈæpt ðɛɹ fˈʊtstɛps ænd kənfjˈuːzd ðɛɹ sˈaɪt.