text_original: Sullen and harsh, to the acolyte I answered of a Sabbath night, And sprang on the organ's withdrawing peal To shatter its pomp, like a charge of steel. The good monks puzzled and prayed, I trow: But against their Heaven I set my brow.
text_transcription: SULLEN AND HARSH TO THE ACHELIDE I ANSWERED OF A SABBATH NIGHT AND SPRANG ON THE ORGAN'S WITHDRAWING PEAL TO SHATTER ITS POMP LIKE A CHARGE OF STEEL THE GOOD MONKS PUZZLED AND PRAYED I TROW BUT AGAINST THEIR HEAVEN I SET MY BROW
phonemes: sˈʌlən ænd hˈɑːɹʃ, tə ðɪ ˈækəlˌaɪt aɪ ˈænsɚd əvə sˈæbəθ nˈaɪt, ænd spɹˈæŋ ɔnðɪ ˈɔːɹɡənz wɪθdɹˈɔːɪŋ pˈiːl tə ʃˈæɾɚɹ ɪts pˈɑːmp, lˈaɪk ɐ tʃˈɑːɹdʒ ʌv stˈiːl. ðə ɡˈʊd mˈʌŋks pˈʌzəld ænd pɹˈeɪd, aɪ tɹˈoʊ: bˌʌt ɐɡˈɛnst ðɛɹ hˈɛvən aɪ sˈɛt maɪ bɹˈaʊ.