Текст песни There's Not a Swain - Olivia Chaney

There's not a Swain, on the Plain,
Would be bless'd like me, oh!
Could you but on me smile;
But you appear so severe
That trembling with fear,
My heart goes pit-a-pat, all the while:
When I cry, must I die,
You make no reply, but look shy,
And with a scornful eye
Kill me by your cruelty.
Oh! can you be so hard to me?