text_original: But O, what rapture fills each breast Of the hopeless crew of the ship distressed ! Then, landed safe, what joy to tell Of all the dangers that befell ! Then is heard no more, By the watch on shore, The minute gun at sea.
text_transcription: BUT O WHAT RAPTURE FILLS EACH BREAST OF THE HOPELESS CREW OF THE SHIP DISTREST THEN LANDED SAVE WHAT JOY TO TELL OF ALL THE DANGERS THAT BEFELL THAN IS HEARD NO MORE BY THE WATCH ON SHORE THE MINUTE GUN AT SEA
phonemes: bˌʌt ˈoʊ, wˌʌt ɹˈæptʃɚ fˈɪlz ˈiːtʃ bɹˈɛst ʌvðə hˈoʊpləs kɹˈuː ʌvðə ʃˈɪp dɪstɹˈɛst ! ðˈɛn, lˈændᵻd sˈeɪf, wˌʌt dʒˈɔɪ tə tˈɛl ʌv ˈɔːl ðə dˈeɪndʒɚz ðæt bᵻfˈɛl ! ðˈɛn ɪz hˈɜːd nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ, baɪ ðə wˈɑːtʃ ˌɔn ʃˈɔːɹ, ðə mˈɪnɪt ɡˈʌn æt sˈiː.