Riddle XV. A Badger

My throat is like snow, and my sides and my head
Are a swarthy brown; I am swift in flight.
Battle-weapons I bear; on my back stand hairs,
And also on my cheeks. O'er my eyes on high
Two ears tower; with my toes I step
On the green grass. Grief comes upon me
If the slaughter-grim hunter shall see me in hiding,
Shall find me alone where I fashion my dwelling,
Bold with my brood. I abide in this place
With my strong young children till a stranger shall come
And bring dread to my door. Death then is certain.
Hence, trembling I carry my terrified children
Far from their home and flee unto safety.
If he crowds me close as he comes behind,
I bare my breast. In my burrow I dare not
Meet my furious foe (it were foolish to do so),
But, wildly rushing, I work a road
Through the high hill with my hands and feet.
I fail not in defending my family's lives;
If I lead the little ones below to safety,
Through a secret hole inside the hill,
My beloved brood, no longer need I
Fear the offense of the fierce-battling dogs.
Whenever the hostile one hunts on my trail,
Follows me close, he will fail not of conflict,
Of a warm encounter, when he comes on my war-path,
If I reach, in my rage, through the roof of my hill
And deal my deadly darts of battle
On the foe I have feared and fled from long.