text_original: Child of my child, child of Antonio's child, Bend down and let me kiss your wondering face. 'Tis a strange tale to tell a rose like you. But time is brief, and, had I told you not, Haply the story would have met your ears From them, the Amieri, my own blood, Now turned to gall, whose foul and bitter lips Will wag with lies when once my lips are dumb. (Pardon me, Virgin. I was gentle once, And thou hast seen my wrongs. Thou wilt forgive.) Now go, my dearest.
text_transcription: CHILD OF MY CHILD CHILD OF ANTONIO'S CHILD BENT DOWN AND LET ME KISS YOUR WANDERING FACE TIS A STRANGE TALE TO TELL A ROSE LIKE YOU BUT TIME IS BRIEF AND HAD I TOLD YOU NOT HAPLY THE STORY WOULD HAVE MET YOUR EARS FROM THEM THE AMIRRI MY OWN BLOOD NOW TURN TO GALL WHOSE FOUL AND BITTER LIPS WILL WAG WITH LIES WHEN ONCE MY LIPS ARE DUMB PARDON ME VIRGIN I WAS GENTLE ONES AND THOU HAST SEEN MY WRONGS THOU WILT FORGIVE NOW GO MY DEAREST
phonemes: tʃˈaɪld ʌv maɪ tʃˈaɪld, tʃˈaɪld ʌv æntˈoʊnɪˌoʊz tʃˈaɪld, bˈɛnd dˌaʊn ænd lˈɛt mˌiː kˈɪs jʊɹ wˈʌndɚɹɪŋ fˈeɪs. tˈɪz ɐ stɹˈeɪndʒ tˈeɪl tə tˈɛl ɐ ɹˈoʊz lˈaɪk juː. bˌʌt tˈaɪm ɪz bɹˈiːf, ænd, hæd aɪ tˈoʊld juː nˈɑːt, hˈæpli ðə stˈɔːɹi wʊdhɐv mˈɛt jʊɹ ˈɪɹz fɹʌm ðˌɛm, ðɪ ˈæmɪɹi, maɪ ˈoʊn blˈʌd, nˈaʊ tˈɜːnd tə ɡˈɔːl, hˌuːz fˈaʊl ænd bˈɪɾɚ lˈɪps wɪl wˈæɡ wɪð lˈaɪz wɛn wˈʌns maɪ lˈɪps ɑːɹ dˈʌm. (pˈɑːɹdən mˌiː, vˈɜːdʒɪn. aɪ wʌz dʒˈɛntəl wˈʌns, ænd ðˈaʊ hˈeɪst sˈiːn maɪ ɹˈɔŋz. ðˈaʊ wˈɪlt fɚɡˈɪv.) nˈaʊ ɡˈoʊ, maɪ dˈɪɹɪst.