text_original: The lad was fair to look upon, Ah! must he really die, Oh! shall such sacrifice pollute That calm blue evening sky? The boy, though brave, is trembling now, He nears the dreadful fire, He feels its scorch, yet gives his life, To still the idol's ire.
text_transcription: THE LAD WAS FAIR TO LOOK UPON AH MUST HE REALLY DIE OH SHALL SUCH SACRIFICE POLLUTE THAT CALM BLUE EVENING SKY THE BOY THOUGH BRAVE IS TREMBLING NOW HE NEARS THE DREADFUL FIRE HE FEELS ITS SCORCH YET GIVES HIS LIFE TO STILL THE IDOL'S IRE
phonemes: ðə lˈæd wʌz fˈɛɹ tə lˈʊk əpˌɑːn, ˈɑː! mˈʌst hiː ɹˈiəli dˈaɪ, ˈoʊ! ʃˌæl sˈʌtʃ sˈækɹᵻfˌaɪs pəlˈuːt ðæt kˈɑːm blˈuː ˈiːvnɪŋ skˈaɪ? ðə bˈɔɪ, ðˌoʊ bɹˈeɪv, ɪz tɹˈɛmblɪŋ nˈaʊ, hiː nˌɪɹz ðə dɹˈɛdfəl fˈaɪɚ, hiː fˈiːlz ɪts skˈɔːɹtʃ, jˈɛt ɡˈɪvz hɪz lˈaɪf, tə stˈɪl ðɪ ˈaɪdəlz ˈaɪɚ.