text_original: But through the Tuscan land shall beat Her Sorrow, like a wounded bird; And if her suit at Mary's feet Avail, its moan shall yet be heard By some just poet, who shall shed, Whate'er the theme that leads his rhyme Bright words like tears above her, dead, Entreating of the after time: "Among you let her mournful memory linger!
text_transcription: BUT THROUGH THE TUSCAN LAND SHALL BEAT HER SORROW LIKE A WOUNDED BIRD AND IF HER SUIT AT MARY'S FEET A VEIL ITS MOAN SHALL YET BE HEARD BY SOME JUST POET WHO SHALL SHED WHATEVER THE THEME THAT LEADS HIS RHYME BRIGHT WORDS LIKE TEARS ABOVE HER DEAD ENTREATING OF THE AFTER TIME AMONG YOU LET HER MOURNFUL MEMORY LINGER
phonemes: bˌʌt θɹuː ðə tˈʌskən lˈænd ʃˌæl bˈiːt hɜː sˈɑːɹoʊ, lˈaɪk ɐ wˈuːndᵻd bˈɜːd; ænd ɪf hɜː sˈuːt æt mˈɛɹiz fˈiːt ɐvˈeɪl, ɪts mˈoʊn ʃˌæl jˈɛt biː hˈɜːd baɪ sˌʌm dʒˈʌst pˈoʊɪt, hˌuː ʃˌæl ʃˈɛd, wˈʌɾɛɹ ðə θˈiːm ðæt lˈiːdz hɪz ɹˈaɪm bɹˈaɪt wˈɜːdz lˈaɪk tˈɪɹz əbˈʌv hɜː, dˈɛd, ɛntɹˈiːɾɪŋ ʌvðɪ ˈæftɚ tˈaɪm: "ɐmˌʌŋ juː lˈɛt hɜː mˈɔːɹnfəl mˈɛmɚɹi lˈɪŋɡɚ!