text_original: O'er time and death victorious, He sat, the magic of whose pen Made king and castle glorious — There, face to face, once more we met, Like leaves in autumn weather. That blown afar by varying winds. Yet drift again together.
text_transcription: OVER TIME AND DEATH VICTORIOUS HE SAT THE MAGIC OF WHOSE PEN MADE KING AND CASTLE GLORIOUS THERE FACE TO FACE ONCE MORE WE MET LIKE LEAVES IN AUTUMN WEATHER THAT BLOWN AFAR BY VARYING WINDS YET DRIFT AGAIN TOGETHER
phonemes: ˈɔːɹ tˈaɪm ænd dˈɛθ vɪktˈɔːɹiəs, hiː sˈæt, ðə mˈædʒɪk ʌv hˌuːz pˈɛn mˌeɪd kˈɪŋ ænd kˈæsəl ɡlˈɔːɹiəs — ðˈɛɹ, fˈeɪs tə fˈeɪs, wˈʌns mˈɔːɹ wiː mˈɛt, lˈaɪk lˈiːvz ɪn ˈɔːɾʌm wˈɛðɚ. ðæt blˈoʊn ɐfˈɑːɹ baɪ vˈɛɹiɪŋ wˈɪndz. jˈɛt dɹˈɪft ɐɡˈɛn təɡˈɛðɚ.