text_original: XXVII. And so Bianca changed;  the next sweet even, With Julio in a black Venetian bark, Row'd slow and stealthily  the hour, eleven, Just sounding from the tow'r of old St. Mark; She sate with eyes turn'd quietly to heav'n, Perchance rejoicing in the grateful dark That veil'd her blushing cheek,  for Julio brought her Of course  to break the ice upon the water.
text_transcription: TWENTY SEVEN AND SO BIANCA CHANGED THE NEXT SWEET EVEN WITH JULIO IN A BLACK VENETIAN BARK RODE SLOW AND STEALTHILY THE HOUR ELEVEN JUST SOUNDING FROM THE TOWER OF OLD SAINT MARK SHE SATE WITH EYES TURNED QUIETLY TO HEAVEN PERCHANCE REJOICING IN THE GRATEFUL DARK THAT VEILED HER BLUSHING CHEEK FOR JULIA BROUGHT HER OF COURSE TO BREAK THE ICE UPON THE WATER
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən twˈɛnti sˈɛvən. ænd sˌoʊ bɪˈɑːŋkə tʃˈeɪndʒd;  ðə nˈɛkst swˈiːt ˈiːvən, wɪð dʒˈuːlɪˌoʊ ɪn ɐ blˈæk vᵻnˈiːʃən bˈɑːɹk, ɹˈoʊd slˈoʊ ænd stˈɛlθili ðɪ ˈaʊɚ, ᵻlˈɛvən, dʒˈʌst sˈaʊndɪŋ fɹʌmðə tˈoʊɚɹ ʌv ˈoʊld sənt. mˈɑːɹk; ʃiː sˈeɪt wɪð ˈaɪz tˈɜːnd kwˈaɪətli tə hˈiːvn, pɚtʃˈæns ɹᵻdʒˈɔɪsɪŋ ɪnðə ɡɹˈeɪtfəl dˈɑːɹk ðæt vˈeɪld hɜː blˈʌʃɪŋ tʃˈiːk,  fɔːɹ dʒˈuːlɪˌoʊ bɹˈɔːt hɜːɹ ʌv kˈɔːɹs tə bɹˈeɪk ðɪ ˈaɪs əpˌɑːn ðə wˈɔːɾɚ.