text_original: Lost in the dark depths of the gorge, the light of the moon, which was veiled now and again, did not reach the heads of their pikes, and the white eagles Hying overhead did not guess that so vast a multitude of men was troubling their solitude. Once old Guidon Stayper touched Kennybol's shoul  der writh the butt end of his carbine, saying, " Captain, Captain, something glimmers behind that tuft of holly and broom." " So it does," replied the mountain chief ; " it is the water of the stream reflecting the clouds."
text_transcription: LOST IN THE DARK DEPTH OF THE GORGE THE LIGHT OF THE MOON WHICH WAS VEILED NOW AND AGAIN DID NOT REACH THE HEADS OF THEIR PIKES AND THE WHITE EAGLES FLYING OVERHEAD DID NOT GUESS THAT SO VAST A MULTITUDE OF MEN WAS TROUBLING THEIR SOLITUDE ONCE OLD GOLDEN STIPER TOUCHED CANNIBALD'S SHOULDER WITH THE BUTT END OF HIS CARBINE SAYING CAPTAIN CAPTAIN SOMETHING GLIMMERS BEHIND THAT TUFT OF HOLLY AND BROOM SO IT DOES REPLIED THE MOUNTAIN CHIEF IT IS THE WATER OF THE STREAM REFLECTING THE CLOUDS
phonemes: lˈɔst ɪnðə dˈɑːɹk dˈɛpθs ʌvðə ɡˈɔːɹdʒ, ðə lˈaɪt ʌvðə mˈuːn, wˌɪtʃ wʌz vˈeɪld nˈaʊ ænd ɐɡˈɛn, dɪdnˌɑːt ɹˈiːtʃ ðə hˈɛdz ʌv ðɛɹ pˈaɪks, ænd ðə wˈaɪt ˈiːɡəlz hˈaɪɪŋ ˌoʊvɚhˈɛd dɪdnˌɑːt ɡˈɛs ðæt sˌoʊ vˈæst ɐ mˈʌltɪtˌuːd ʌv mˈɛn wʌz tɹˈʌblɪŋ ðɛɹ sˈɑːlɪtˌuːd. wˈʌns ˈoʊld ɡˈaɪdɑːn stˈeɪpɚ tˈʌtʃt kˈɛnɪbˌɑːlz ʃˈaʊl dˈɛɹ ɹˈaɪð ðə bˈʌt ˈɛnd ʌv hɪz kˈɑːɹbaɪn, sˈeɪɪŋ, " kˈæptɪn, kˈæptɪn, sˈʌmθɪŋ ɡlˈɪmɚz bᵻhˌaɪnd ðæt tˈʌft ʌv hˈɑːli ænd bɹˈuːm." " sˌoʊ ɪt dˈʌz," ɹᵻplˈaɪd ðə mˈaʊntɪn tʃˈiːf ; " ɪɾ ɪz ðə wˈɔːɾɚɹ ʌvðə stɹˈiːm ɹᵻflˈɛktɪŋ ðə klˈaʊdz."