text_original: It was in a dense mist that the ghosts of the Trojans answered my cordial hail, through which the old Gods, nevertheless, peered down from the hill of Ida upon their old plain.
text_transcription: IT WAS IN A DENSE MIST THAT THE GHOSTS OF THE TROJANS ANSWERED MY CORDIAL HAIL THROUGH WHICH THE OLD GODS NEVERTHELESS PEERED DOWN FROM THE HILL OF IDA UPON THEIR OLD PLAIN
phonemes: ɪt wʌz ɪn ɐ dˈɛns mˈɪst ðætðə ɡˈoʊsts ʌvðə tɹˈoʊdʒənz ˈænsɚd maɪ kˈɔːɹdʒəl hˈeɪl, θɹuː wˌɪtʃ ðɪ ˈoʊld ɡˈɑːdz, nˌɛvɚðəlˈɛs, pˈɪɹd dˌaʊn fɹʌmðə hˈɪl ʌv ˈaɪdə əpˌɑːn ðɛɹ ˈoʊld plˈeɪn.