text_original: <>. were it mine with tuneful Maro's art To wake to sympathy the feeling heart; Like him the smooth and mournful verse to dress In all the pomp of exquisite distress, Then too severely taught by cruel fate, To share in all the perils I relate, V — 27 118 POEMS OF XATURE. Then might I with unrivalled strains deplore The impervious horrors of a leeward shore
text_transcription: O WERE IT MINE WITH TUNEFUL MORROWS ART TO WAKE TO SYMPATHY THE FEELING HEART LIKE HIM THE SMOOTH AND MOURNFUL VERSE TO DRESS IN ALL THE POMP OF EXQUISITE DISTRESS THEN TOO SEVERELY TAUGHT BY CRUEL FATE TO SHARE IN ALL THE PERILS I RELATE THEN MIGHT I WITH UNRIVALLED STRAINS DEPLORE THE IMPERVIOUS HORRORS OF A LEEWARD SHORE
phonemes: . wɜːɹ ɪt mˈaɪn wɪð tˈuːnfəl mˈæɹoʊz ˈɑːɹt tə wˈeɪk tə sˈɪmpəθi ðə fˈiːlɪŋ hˈɑːɹt; lˈaɪk hˌɪm ðə smˈuːð ænd mˈɔːɹnfəl vˈɜːs tə dɹˈɛs ɪn ˈɔːl ðə pˈɑːmp ʌv ɛkskwˈɪsɪt dɪstɹˈɛs, ðˈɛn tˈuː sᵻvˈɪɹli tˈɔːt baɪ kɹˈuːəl fˈeɪt, tə ʃˈɛɹ ɪn ˈɔːl ðə pˈɛɹəlz aɪ ɹᵻlˈeɪt, vˈiː — twˈɛnti sˈɛvən wˈʌnhˈʌndɹɪd ˈeɪtiːn pˈoʊᵻmz ʌv zˈætʃɚ. ðˈɛn mˌaɪt aɪ wɪð ʌnɹˈaɪvəld stɹˈeɪnz dᵻplˈɔːɹ ðɪ ɪmpˈɜːviəs hˈɔɹɚz əvə lˈiːwɚd ʃˈɔːɹ