text_original: The poor are crushed; the tyrants link their chain; The poet sings through narrow dungeon grates; Man's hope lies quenched;  and, lo! with steadfast gain Freedom doth forge her mail of adverse fates.
text_transcription: THE POOR ARE CRUSHED THE TYRANTS LINK THEIR CHAIN THE POET SINGS THROUGH NARROW DUNGEON GRADES MAN'S HOPE LIES QUENCHED AND LO WITH STEADFAST GAIN FREEDOM DOTH FORGE HER MAIL OF ADVERSE FATES
phonemes: ðə pˈʊɹ ɑːɹ kɹˈʌʃt; ðə tˈaɪɹənts lˈɪŋk ðɛɹ tʃˈeɪn; ðə pˈoʊɪt sˈɪŋz θɹuː nˈæɹoʊ dˈʌndʒən ɡɹˈeɪts; mˈænz hˈoʊp lˈaɪz kwˈɛntʃt;  ænd, lˈoʊ! wɪð stˈɛdfæst ɡˈeɪn fɹˈiːdəm dʌθ fˈɔːɹdʒ hɜː mˈeɪl ʌv ædvˈɜːs fˈeɪts.