text_original: Happy they were not, and could not be. When we read of Swift and Stella the mind naturally turns to that luck  less pair of lovers whom Dante saw in the third circle of hell, blown about forever on the racking wind, and finding comfort through the lapse of eternal twilight in the com  panionship of their common doom.
text_transcription: HAPPY THEY WERE NOT AND COULD NOT BE WHEN WE READ OF SWIFT AND STELLA THE MIND NATURALLY TURNS TO THAT LUCKLESS PAIR OF LOVERS WHOM DANTE SAW IN THE THIRD CIRCLE OF HELL BLOWN ABOUT FOR EVER ON THE RACKING WIND AND FINDING COMFORT THROUGH THE LAPSE OF ETERNAL TWILIGHT IN THE COMPANIONSHIP OF THEIR COMMON DOOM
phonemes: hˈæpi ðeɪ wɜː nˈɑːt, ænd kʊd nˌɑːt bˈiː. wˌɛn wiː ɹˈiːd ʌv swˈɪft ænd stˈɛlə ðə mˈaɪnd nˈætʃɚɹəli tˈɜːnz tə ðæt lˈʌk lˈɛs pˈɛɹ ʌv lˈʌvɚz hˈuːm dˈɑːnteɪ sˈɔː ɪnðə θˈɜːd sˈɜːkəl ʌv hˈɛl, blˈoʊn ɐbˌaʊt fɚɹˈɛvɚɹ ɔnðə ɹˈækɪŋ wˈɪnd, ænd fˈaɪndɪŋ kˈʌmfɚt θɹuː ðə lˈæps ʌv ɪtˈɜːnəl twˈaɪlaɪt ɪnðə kˈɑːm pˈæniənʃˌɪp ʌv ðɛɹ kˈɑːmən dˈuːm.