text_original: Augur and lord of silver bow, Apollo, darling of the Nine, Who heal'st our frame when languors slow Have made it pine; Lov'st thou thine own Palatial hill, Prolong the glorious life of Rome To other cycles, brightening still Through time to come!
text_transcription: AUGUR AND LORD OF SILVER BOW APOLLO DARLING OF THE NINE WHO YIELDS OUR FRAME WHEN LANGUES SLOW HATH MADE IT PINE LOVEST THOU THINE OWN PALATIAL HILL PROLONG THE GLORIOUS LIFE OF ROME TO OTHER CYCLES BRIGHTENING STILL THROUGH TIME TO COME
phonemes: ˈɔːɡɚɹ ænd lˈɔːɹd ʌv sˈɪlvɚ bˈoʊ, ɐpˈɑːloʊ, dˈɑːɹlɪŋ ʌvðə nˈaɪn, hˌuː hˈiːlst ˌaʊɚ fɹˈeɪm wɛn lˈæŋɡjuːɚz slˈoʊ hæv mˌeɪd ɪt pˈaɪn; lˈʌvst ðˈaʊ ðaɪn ˈoʊn pælˈeɪʃəl hˈɪl, pɹəlˈɔŋ ðə ɡlˈɔːɹiəs lˈaɪf ʌv ɹˈoʊm tʊ ˈʌðɚ sˈaɪkəlz, bɹˈaɪʔn̩ɪŋ stˈɪl θɹuː tˈaɪm tə kˈʌm!