text_original: To him the horizon was a smitten chord That rang in challenge to his youthful sword, And thrilled with all the murmurs of romance The realms remote from his insatiate lance. Silent awhile he stood, and ere he spoke.
text_transcription: TO HIM THE HORIZON WAS A SMITTEN CHORD THAT RANG IN CHALLENGE TO HIS YOUTHFUL SWORD AND THRILLED WITH ALL THE MURMURS OF ROMANCE THE RAMS REMOTE FROM HIS INSATIATE LANDS SILENT A WHILE HE STOOD AND ERE HE SPOKE
phonemes: tə hˌɪm ðə hɚɹˈaɪzən wʌzɐ smˈɪʔn̩ kˈɔːɹd ðæt ɹˈæŋ ɪn tʃˈælɪndʒ tə hɪz jˈuːθfəl sˈɔːɹd, ænd θɹˈɪld wɪð ˈɔːl ðə mˈɜːmɚz ʌv ɹoʊmˈæns ðə ɹˈɛlmz ɹᵻmˈoʊt fɹʌm hɪz ɪnsˈeɪʃɪˌeɪt lˈæns. sˈaɪlənt ɐwˈaɪl hiː stˈʊd, ænd ˈɛɹ hiː spˈoʊk.