text_original: The solitude's dim spell it breaketh not, But softer mourns unto me from the mead Than airs that in the wood intoning start, Or breath of silences in dells begot To soothe some grief wan soul with sin a smart.
text_transcription: TO SOLITUDE'S DIM SPELL IT BREAKETH NOT BUT SOFTER MOURNS UNTO ME FROM THE MEAD THAN AIRS THAT IN THE WOOD INTONING START OR BREATH OF SILENCES IN DEBTS BEGOT TO SOOTHE SOME GRIEF WORN SOUL WITH SIN A SMART
phonemes: ðə sˈɑːlɪtˌuːdz dˈɪm spˈɛl ɪt bɹˈeɪkəθ nˈɑːt, bˌʌt sˈɔftɚ mˈɔːɹnz ˌʌntʊ mˌiː fɹʌmðə mˈiːd ðɐn ˈɛɹz ðæt ɪnðə wˈʊd ɪntˈoʊnɪŋ stˈɑːɹt, ɔːɹ bɹˈɛθ ʌv sˈaɪlənsᵻz ɪn dˈɛlz bᵻɡˈɑːt tə sˈuːð sˌʌm ɡɹˈiːf wˈæn sˈoʊl wɪð sˈɪn ɐ smˈɑːɹt.