text_original: Not once again the fret of heart and soul, The loneliness and passion of King Lear; No more bewilderment and broken words Of wild despair and fear. And never wilt thou conjure from the past The dread and bitter field of Waterloo; Thy trembling hands will never pluck again Its roses or its rue.
text_transcription: NOT ONCE AGAIN THE FRET OF HEART AND SOUL THE LONELINESS AND PASSION OF KING LEAR NO MORE BEWILDERMENT AND BROKEN WORDS OF WILD DESPAIR AND FEAR AND NEVER WILT THOU CONJURE FROM THE PAST THE DREAD AND BITTER FIELD OF WATERLOO THY TREMBLING HANDS WILL NEVER PLUCK AGAIN ITS ROSES OR ITS RUE
phonemes: nˌɑːt wˈʌns ɐɡˈɛn ðə fɹˈɛt ʌv hˈɑːɹt ænd sˈoʊl, ðə lˈoʊnlinəs ænd pˈæʃən ʌv kˈɪŋ lˈɪɹ; nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ bᵻwˈɪldɚmənt ænd bɹˈoʊkən wˈɜːdz ʌv wˈaɪld dᵻspˈɛɹ ænd fˈɪɹ. ænd nˈɛvɚ wˈɪlt ðˈaʊ kˈʌndʒɚ fɹʌmðə pˈæst ðə dɹˈɛd ænd bˈɪɾɚ fˈiːld ʌv wˈɔːɾɚlˌuː; ðˌaɪ tɹˈɛmblɪŋ hˈændz wɪl nˈɛvɚ plˈʌk ɐɡˈɛn ɪts ɹˈoʊzᵻz ɔːɹ ɪts ɹˈuː.