text_original: XXXIV. He took her hand, and soon she felt him wring The pretty fingers all instead of one; Anon his stealthy arm began to cling About her waist that had been clasp'd by none, Their dear confessions I forbear to sing, Since cold description would but be outrun; For bliss and Irish watches have the pow'r, In twenty minutes, to lose half an hour!
text_transcription: THIRTY FOUR HE TOOK HER HAND AND SOON SHE FELT HIM WRING THE PRETTY FINGERS ALL INSTEAD OF ONE ANON HIS STEALTHY ARM BEGAN TO CLING ABOUT HER WAIST THAT HAD BEEN CLASPED BY NONE THEIR DEAR CONFESSIONS I FORBEAR TO SING SINCE COLD DESCRIPTION WOULD BUT BE OUTRUN FOR BLISS AND IRISH WATCHES HAVE THE POWER IN TWENTY MINUTES TO LOSE HALF AN HOUR
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən θˈɜːɾi fˈɔːɹ. hiː tˈʊk hɜː hˈænd, ænd sˈuːn ʃiː fˈɛlt hˌɪm ɹˈɪŋ ðə pɹˈɪɾi fˈɪŋɡɚz ˈɔːl ɪnstˈɛd ʌv wˌʌn; ɐnˈɔn hɪz stˈɛlθi ˈɑːɹm bɪɡˈæn tə klˈɪŋ ɐbˌaʊt hɜː wˈeɪst ðæt hɐdbɪn klˈæspd baɪ nˈʌn, ðɛɹ dˈɪɹ kənfˈɛʃənz aɪ fˈɔːɹbɛɹ tə sˈɪŋ, sˈɪns kˈoʊld dᵻskɹˈɪpʃən wʊd bˌʌt biː aʊtɹˈʌn; fɔːɹ blˈɪs ænd ˈaɪɹɪʃ wˈɑːtʃᵻz hæv ðə pˈaʊɚ, ɪn twˈɛnti mˈɪnɪts, tə lˈuːz hˈæf ɐn ˈaʊɚ!