text_original: THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. FROM " MUSIC'S DUEL." Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams Of noon's high glory, when, hard by the streams Of Tiber, on the scene of a green plat, Under protection of an oak, there sat A sweet lute's master, in whose gentle airs He lost the day's heat and his own hot cares.
text_transcription: THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG FROM MUSIC'S DUEL NOW WESTWARD SAUL HAD SPENT THE RICHEST BEAMS OF NOON'S HIGH GLORY WHEN HARD BY THE STREAMS OF TIBER ON THE SCENE OF A GREEN PLATTE UNDER PROTECTION OF AN OAK THERE SAT A SWEET LUD'S MASTER IN WHOSE GENTLE AIRS HE LOST THE DAY'S HEAT AND HIS OWN HOT CARES
phonemes: ðə nˈaɪɾɪŋɡˌeɪlz sˈɔŋ. fɹʌm " mjˈuːzɪkz dˈuːəl." nˈaʊ wˈɛstwɚd sˈɑːl hæd spˈɛnt ðə ɹˈɪtʃɪst bˈiːmz ʌv nˈuːnz hˈaɪ ɡlˈɔːɹi, wˌɛn, hˈɑːɹd baɪ ðə stɹˈiːmz ʌv tˈaɪbɚ, ɔnðə sˈiːn əvə ɡɹˈiːn plˈæt, ˌʌndɚ pɹətˈɛkʃən əvən ˈoʊk, ðɛɹ sˈæt ɐ swˈiːt lˈuːts mˈæstɚ, ɪn hˌuːz dʒˈɛntəl ˈɛɹz hiː lˈɔst ðə dˈeɪz hˈiːt ænd hɪz ˈoʊn hˈɑːt kˈɛɹz.