text_original: They call me to a dim, disastrous land, Where fallen marbles tell of mighty years, Heroic architraves, but where the gust Ripples forsaken waters, Lol I stand With armies round about, and in mine ears The roar of harps reborn from legend's dust.
text_transcription: THEY CALL ME TO A DIM DISASTROUS LAND WHERE FALLEN MARBLES TELL OF MIGHTY YEARS HEROIC ARCHITRAVES BUT WHERE THE GUST RIPPLES FORSAKEN WATERS LO I STAND WITH ARMIES ROUND ABOUT AND IN MINE EARS THE ROAR OF HARPS REBORNE FROM LEGEND'S DUS
phonemes: ðeɪ kˈɔːl mˌiː tʊ ɐ dˈɪm, dɪzˈæstɹəs lˈænd, wˌɛɹ fˈɔːlən mˈɑːɹbəlz tˈɛl ʌv mˈaɪɾi jˈɪɹz, hɪɹˈoʊɪk ˈɑːɹkɪtɹˌeɪvz, bˌʌt wˌɛɹ ðə ɡˈʌst ɹˈɪpəlz fɔːɹsˈeɪkən wˈɔːɾɚz, lˈɑːl aɪ stˈænd wɪð ˈɑːɹmiz ɹˈaʊnd ɐbˈaʊt, ænd ɪn mˈaɪn ˈɪɹz ðə ɹˈɔːɹ ʌv hˈɑːɹps ɹᵻbˈɔːɹn fɹʌm lˈɛdʒəndz dˈʌst.