text_original: Ah! how oft shall he Lament that faith can fail, that gods can change, Viewing the rough black sea With eyes to tempests strange, Who now is basking in your golden smile, And dreams of you still fancy free, still kind, Poor fool, nor knows the guile Of the deceitful wind!
text_transcription: AH HOW OFT SHALL HE LAMENT THAT FAITH CAN FAIL THAT GODS CAN CHANGE VIEWING THE ROUGH BLACK SEA WITH EYES TO TEMPESTS STRANGE WHO NOW IS BASKING IN YOUR GOLDEN SMILE AND DREAMS OF YOU STILL FANCY FREE STILL KIND POOR FOOL NOR KNOWS THE GUILE OF THE DECEITFUL WIND
phonemes: ˈɑː! hˌaʊ ˈɔft ʃˌæl hiː lɐmˈɛnt ðæt fˈeɪθ kæn fˈeɪl, ðæt ɡˈɑːdz kæn tʃˈeɪndʒ, vjˈuːɪŋ ðə ɹˈʌf blˈæk sˈiː wɪð ˈaɪz tə tˈɛmpɪsts stɹˈeɪndʒ, hˌuː nˈaʊ ɪz bˈæskɪŋ ɪn jʊɹ ɡˈoʊldən smˈaɪl, ænd dɹˈiːmz ʌv juː stˈɪl fˈænsi fɹˈiː, stˈɪl kˈaɪnd, pˈʊɹ fˈuːl, nˈɔːɹ nˈoʊz ðə ɡˈaɪl ʌvðə dᵻsˈiːtfəl wˈɪnd!