text_original: Nought is there for man too high; Our impious folly e'en would climb the sky, Braves the dweller on the steep, Nor lets the bolts of heavenly vengeance sleep.
text_transcription: NOUGHT IS THEREFORE MEN TOO HIGH OUR IMPIOUS FOLLY EVEN WOULD CLIMB THE SKY BRAVES TO DWELLER ON THE STEEP NOR LETS THE BOLTS OF HEAVENLY VENGEANCE SLEEP
phonemes: nˈɔːt ɪz ðɛɹ fɔːɹ mˈæn tˈuː hˈaɪ; ˌaʊɚɹ ɪmpˈiəs fˈɑːli ˈɛən wʊd klˈaɪm ðə skˈaɪ, bɹˈeɪvz ðə dwˈɛlɚɹ ɔnðə stˈiːp, nˈɔːɹ lˈɛts ðə bˈoʊlts ʌv hˈɛvənli vˈɛndʒəns slˈiːp.