text_original: The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er ; So calm are we when passions are no more. For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting tilings, too certain to be lost.
text_transcription: THE SEAS ARE QUIET WHEN THE WINDS GIVE OVER SO CALM ARE WE WHEN PASSIONS ARE NO MORE FOR THEN WE KNOW HOW VAIN IT WAS TO BOAST OF FLEETING THINGS TOO CERTAIN TO BE LOST
phonemes: ðə sˈiːz ɑːɹ kwˈaɪət wɛn ðə wˈɪndz ɡˈɪv ˈɔːɹ ; sˌoʊ kˈɑːm ɑːɹ wiː wɛn pˈæʃənz ɑːɹ nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ. fɔːɹ ðˈɛn wiː nˈoʊ hˌaʊ vˈeɪn ɪt wʌz tə bˈoʊst ʌv flˈiːɾɪŋ tˈaɪlɪŋz, tˈuː sˈɜːʔn̩ təbi lˈɔst.