text_original: Thus humble let me live and die, Nor long for Midas' golden touch ; If Heaven more generous gifts deny, I shall not miss them m uclu — Too grateful for the blessing lent Of simple tastes and mind content !
text_transcription: THUS HUMBLE LET ME LIVE AND DIE NOR LONG FOR MIDAS SCOLD AND TOUCH IF HEAVEN MORE GENEROUS GIFTS DENY I SHALL NOT MISS THEM MUCH TOO GRATEFUL FOR THE BLESSING LENT OF SIMPLE TASTES AND MIND CONTEND END OF POEM DISACCORDING IS IN THE
phonemes: ðˈʌs hˈʌmbəl lˈɛt mˌiː lˈaɪv ænd dˈaɪ, nˈɔːɹ lˈɔŋ fɔːɹ mˈiːdəz ɡˈoʊldən tˈʌtʃ ; ɪf hˈɛvən mˈɔːɹ dʒˈɛnɚɹəs ɡˈɪfts dᵻnˈaɪ, aɪʃˌɐl nˌɑːt mˈɪs ðˌɛm ˈɛm ˈʌkluː — tˈuː ɡɹˈeɪtfəl fɚðə blˈɛsɪŋ lˈɛnt ʌv sˈɪmpəl tˈeɪsts ænd mˈaɪnd kˈɑːntɛnt !