text_original: The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne, The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn, The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman who climbed with his goats to the steep, The beggar that wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
text_transcription: THE HAND OF THE KING THAT THE SCEPTER HATH BORNE THE BROW OF THE PRIEST THAT THE MITRE HATH WORN THE EYE OF THE SAGE AND THE HEART OF THE BRAVE ARE HIDDEN AND LOST IN THE DEPTH OF THE GRAVE THE PEASANT WHOSE LOT WAS TO SOW AND TO REAP THE HERDSMAN WHO CLIMBED WITH HIS GOATS TO THE STEEP THE BEGGAR THAT WANDERED IN SEARCH OF HIS BREAD HAVE FADED AWAY LIKE THE GRASS THAT WE TREAD
phonemes: ðə hˈænd ʌvðə kˈɪŋ ðætðə sˈɛptɚ hæθ bˈɔːɹn, ðə bɹˈaʊ ʌvðə pɹˈiːst ðætðə mˈaɪɾɚ hæθ wˈɔːɹn, ðɪ ˈaɪ ʌvðə sˈeɪdʒ, ænd ðə hˈɑːɹt ʌvðə bɹˈeɪv, ɑːɹ hˈɪdən ænd lˈɔst ɪnðə dˈɛpθs ʌvðə ɡɹˈeɪv. ðə pˈɛzənt hˌuːz lˈɑːt wʌz tə sˈoʊ ænd tə ɹˈiːp, ðə hˈɜːdzmən hˌuː klˈaɪmd wɪð hɪz ɡˈoʊts tə ðə stˈiːp, ðə bˈɛɡɚ ðæt wˈɔndɚd ɪn sˈɜːtʃ ʌv hɪz bɹˈɛd, hæv fˈeɪdᵻd ɐwˈeɪ lˈaɪk ðə ɡɹˈæs ðæt wiː tɹˈɛd.