text_original: In chambers of gold elysian, The cymbals clash and clang, But the days are gone like a vision When the people wrought and sang. And toil hath fear for neighbour. Where singing lips are dumb. And life is one long labour. Till death or freedom come.
text_transcription: IN CHAMBERS OF GOLD ELYSIAN THE CYMBALS CLASH AND CLANG BUT THE DAYS ARE GONE LIKE A VISION WHEN THE PEOPLE ROART AND SANG AND TOIL HATH FEAR FOR NEIGHBOR WHERE SINGING LIPS ARE DUMB AND LIFE IS ONE LONG LABOR TILL DEATH OR FREEDOM COME
phonemes: ɪn tʃˈeɪmbɚz ʌv ɡˈoʊld ɛlˈɪʒən, ðə sˈɪmbəlz klˈæʃ ænd klˈæŋ, bˌʌt ðə dˈeɪz ɑːɹ ɡɔn lˈaɪk ɐ vˈɪʒən wɛn ðə pˈiːpəl ɹˈɔːt ænd sˈæŋ. ænd tˈɔɪl hæθ fˈɪɹ fɔːɹ nˈeɪbɚ. wˌɛɹ sˈɪŋɪŋ lˈɪps ɑːɹ dˈʌm. ænd lˈaɪf ɪz wˈʌn lˈɔŋ lˈeɪbɚ. tˈɪl dˈɛθ ɔːɹ fɹˈiːdəm kˈʌm.