text_original: Can it be That thou, North wind, that from thy mountains bringest Their spirit to our plains, and thou, blue sea, Who on our rocks thy wreaths of freedom flingest, As on an altar,  can it be that ye Have wasted inspiration on dead ears, Dulled with the too familiar clank of chains?
text_transcription: CAN IT BE THAT THOU NORTH WIND THAT FROM THY MOUNTAINS BRINGEST THEIR SPIRIT TO OUR PLAINS AND THOU BLUE SEA WHO ON OUR ROCKS THY WREATHS OF FREEDOM FLINGEST AS ON AN ALTAR CAN IT BE THAT YE HAVE WASTED INSPIRATION ON DEAD EARS DULLED WITH THE TOO FAMILIAR CLANG OF CHAINS
phonemes: kæn ɪt biː ðæt ðˈaʊ, nˈɔːɹθ wˈɪnd, ðæt fɹʌm ðˌaɪ mˈaʊntɪnz bɹˈɪŋɡɪst ðɛɹ spˈɪɹɪt tʊ ˌaʊɚ plˈeɪnz, ænd ðˈaʊ, blˈuː sˈiː, hˌuː ˌɔn ˌaʊɚ ɹˈɑːks ðˌaɪ ɹˈiːθs ʌv fɹˈiːdəm flˈɪŋɡɪst, æz ˌɔn ɐn ˈɔltɚ,  kæn ɪt biː ðæt jiː hæv wˈeɪstᵻd ˌɪnspɚɹˈeɪʃən ˌɔn dˈɛd ˈɪɹz, dˈʌld wɪððə tˈuː fəmˈɪlɪɹ klˈæŋk ʌv tʃˈeɪnz?