text_original: At last comes Phaon's courier with the news that the Senate had put a price upon his head ; the tramp of the horses tells him that his pursuers are on his track, and fear gives him the nerve to put the dagger to his throat, while, true to the passion of his life, he mutters, ' What a loss my death 122 A.D. 54 68, TTie Earlier Empire, will be to art
text_transcription: AT LAST COMES PHAEN'S COURIER WITH THE NEWS THAT THE SENATE HAD PUT A PRICE UPON HIS HEAD THE TRAMP OF THE HORSES TELLS HIM THAT HIS PURSUERS ARE ON HIS TRACK AND FEAR GIVES HIM THE NERVE TO PUT THE DAGGER TO HIS THROAT WHILE TRUE TO THE PASSION OF HIS LIFE HE MUTTERS WHAT A LOSS MY DEATH WILL BE TO ART
phonemes: æt lˈæst kˈʌmz fˈeɪɑːnz kˈɜːɹiɚ wɪððə nˈuːz ðætðə sˈɛnət hæd pˌʊt ɐ pɹˈaɪs əpˌɑːn hɪz hˈɛd ; ðə tɹˈæmp ʌvðə hˈɔːɹsᵻz tˈɛlz hˌɪm ðæt hɪz pɚsˈuːɚz ɑːɹ ˌɔn hɪz tɹˈæk, ænd fˈɪɹ ɡˈɪvz hˌɪm ðə nˈɜːv tə pˌʊt ðə dˈæɡɚ tə hɪz θɹˈoʊt, wˈaɪl, tɹˈuː tə ðə pˈæʃən ʌv hɪz lˈaɪf, hiː mˈʌɾɚz, wˌʌt ɐ lˈɔs maɪ dˈɛθ wˈʌnhˈʌndɹɪd twˈɛnti tˈuː ˈeɪ.dˈiː. fˈɪfti fˈɔːɹ sˈɪksti ˈeɪt, tˈiː tˈaɪ ˈɜːlɪɚɹ ˈɛmpaɪɚ, wɪl biː tʊ ˈɑːɹt