text_original: Alas ! a poor prisoner has nothing but her love to give. My noble friend ! It was but a week ago, — I can see him still on this very spot, with his green mantle, beneath which beats so generous a heart, and that black plume, which waved so gracefully above his broad brow."
text_transcription: ALAS A POOR PRISONER HAS NOTHING BUT HER LOVE TO GIVE MY NOBLE FRIEND IT WAS BUT A WEEK AGO I CAN SEE HIM STILL ON THIS VERY SPOT WITH HIS GREEN MANTLE BENEATH WHICH BEAT SO GENEROUS A HEART AND THAT BLACK PLUME WHICH WAVED SO GRACEFULLY ABOVE HIS BROAD BROW
phonemes: ɐlˈæs ! ɐ pˈʊɹ pɹˈɪzənɚ hɐz nˈʌθɪŋ bˌʌt hɜː lˈʌv tə ɡˈɪv. maɪ nˈoʊbəl fɹˈɛnd ! ɪt wʌz bˌʌt ɐ wˈiːk ɐɡˈoʊ, — aɪ kæn sˈiː hˌɪm stˈɪl ˌɔn ðɪs vˈɛɹi spˈɑːt, wɪð hɪz ɡɹˈiːn mˈæntəl, bᵻnˌiːθ wˌɪtʃ bˈiːts sˌoʊ dʒˈɛnɚɹəs ɐ hˈɑːɹt, ænd ðæt blˈæk plˈuːm, wˌɪtʃ wˈeɪvd sˌoʊ ɡɹˈeɪsfəli əbˌʌv hɪz bɹˈɔːd bɹˈaʊ."