text_original: And from his finger strive to draw The ring that bound him to her spell? Till on her closed his hand whose awe No curse could quell? Oh, yea! and tho' she struggled pale, Did it not hold her cold and fast, Till crawled the tide o'er rock and swale, To her at last?
text_transcription: AND FROM HIS FINGER STRIVE TO DRAW THE RING THAT BOUND HIM TO HER SPELL TILL ON HER CLOSED HIS HAND WHOSE AWE NO CURSE COULD QUELL O YEAR AND THOUGH SHE STRUGGLED PALE THEY DID NOT HOLD HER COLD AND FAST TILL CRAWL TO TIDE OVER ROCK AND SWALE TO HER AT LAST
phonemes: ænd fɹʌm hɪz fˈɪŋɡɚ stɹˈaɪv tə dɹˈɔː ðə ɹˈɪŋ ðæt bˈaʊnd hˌɪm tə hɜː spˈɛl? tˈɪl ˌɔn hɜː klˈoʊzd hɪz hˈænd hˌuːz ˈɔː nˈoʊ kˈɜːs kʊd kwˈɛl? ˈoʊ, jˈeɪ! ænd ðˈoʊ ʃiː stɹˈʌɡəld pˈeɪl, dˈɪd ɪt nˌɑːt hˈoʊld hɜː kˈoʊld ænd fˈæst, tˈɪl kɹˈɔːld ðə tˈaɪd ˈɔːɹ ɹˈɑːk ænd swˈɑːl, tə hɜːɹ æt lˈæst?