text_original: * * * * * Nature has her brave ones, who for her despise the masks of glory dear to the vulgar throng. 'Tis thus, O Adrian, with holy visions thou comfortest the souls of fellow men.
text_transcription: NATURE HAS HER BRAVE ONES WHO FOR HER DESPISE THE MASKS OF GLORY DEAR TO THE VULGAR THRONG THIS THUS O ADRIAN WITH HOLY VISIONS THOU COMFORTEST THE SOULS OF FELLOW MEN
phonemes: ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk nˈeɪtʃɚ hɐz hɜː bɹˈeɪv wˌʌnz, hˌuː fɔːɹ hɜː dᵻspˈaɪz ðə mˈæsks ʌv ɡlˈɔːɹi dˈɪɹ tə ðə vˈʌlɡɚ θɹˈɔŋ. tˈɪz ðˈʌs, ˈoʊ ˈeɪdɹiən, wɪð hˈoʊli vˈɪʒənz ðˈaʊ kˈʌmfɚɾɪst ðə sˈoʊlz ʌv fˈɛloʊ mˈɛn.