text_original: I bore it;  friends soothed me: my grief looked sublime As the ransom of Italy. One boy remained To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time When the first grew immortal, while both of us strained To the height he had gained.
text_transcription: I BORE IT FRIEND SOOTHED ME MY GRIEF LOOKED SUBLIME AS THE RANSOM OF ITALY ONE BOY REMAINED TO BE LEANT ON AND WALKED WITH RECALLING THE TIME WHEN THE FIRST GREW IMMORTAL WHILE BOTH OF US STRAINED TO THE HEIGHT HE HAD GAINED
phonemes: aɪ bˈɔːɹ ɪt;  fɹˈɛndz sˈuːðd mˌiː: maɪ ɡɹˈiːf lˈʊkt sʌblˈaɪm æz ðə ɹˈænsəm ʌv ˈɪɾəli. wˈʌn bˈɔɪ ɹᵻmˈeɪnd təbi lˈɛnt ˌɔn ænd wˈɔːkt wɪð, ɹᵻkˈɔːlɪŋ ðə tˈaɪm wɛn ðə fˈɜːst ɡɹˈuː ɪmˈɔːɹɾəl, wˌaɪl bˈoʊθ ʌv ˌʌs stɹˈeɪnd tə ðə hˈaɪt hiː hæd ɡˈeɪnd.