text_original: In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn, The lad had ceased to play on his horn. "Oh, why art thou silent? I beg thee to play! It gives wings to my thought that would flee far away, As the sun goes down."
text_transcription: IN HER MAIDEN BOWER SAT THE PRINCESS FORLORN THE LAD HAD CEASED TO PLAY ON HIS HORN O WHY ART THOU SILENT I BEG THEE TO PLAY IT GIVES WINGS TO MY THOUGHT THAT WOULD FLEE FAR AWAY AS THE SUN GOES DOWN
phonemes: ɪn hɜː mˈeɪdən bˈaʊɚ sˈæt ðə pɹˈɪnsɛs fˈɔːɹlɔːɹn, ðə lˈæd hæd sˈiːst tə plˈeɪ ˌɔn hɪz hˈɔːɹn. "ˈoʊ, wˌaɪ ˈɑːɹt ðˈaʊ sˈaɪlənt? aɪ bˈɛɡ ðiː tə plˈeɪ! ɪt ɡˈɪvz wˈɪŋz tə maɪ θˈɔːt ðæt wʊd flˈiː fˈɑːɹ ɐwˈeɪ, æz ðə sˈʌn ɡoʊz dˈaʊn."