Battle of Mag Itha

The Battle of Mag Itha (alternative spellings: Magh Ithe, Magh Iotha) was, according to Irish mythology, the first battle fought in Ireland, between the Fomorians, led by Cichol Gricenchos, and the followers of Partholón.

According to the Lebor Gabála Érenn, the Fomorians had lived in Ireland for 200 years, subsisting by fishing and fowling, before the arrival of Partholón, whose people were the first in Ireland to build houses and brew ale. The Lebor Gabála dates Partholón's arrival in Ireland to 2608 years after the creation of the world, and says the Battle of Mag Itha took place ten years after that, in Anno Mundi 2618. The plain of Mag Itha is said to have been cleared by Partholón's hireling Ith, and the battle to have taken place on the slemna, or "smooth lands", of that plain. 300 Fomorians took part in the battle, and Partholón was victorious. The earliest recensions of the Lebor Gabála say that Cichol was killed and the Fomorians destroyed; later recensions say the Fomorians had one arm and one leg each, the battle lasted a week, and no-one was killed or wounded as it was fought by magic.

The Annals of the Four Masters dates the battle to Anno Mundi 2530 (2670 BC), and says 800 Fomorians took part in the battle, all of whom were killed. Geoffrey Keating's Foras Feasa ar Éirinn also mentions the battle, but gives little detail and no date.

John O'Donovan, in his notes to his edition and translation of the Annals of the Four Masters, places Mag Itha along the River Finn, near Lough Swilly in the barony of Raphoe, County Donegal. R. A. Stewart Macalister, in his notes to his edition and translation of the Lebor Gabála Érenn, adds that there were other plains of that name south of Arklow, County Wicklow, and in the territory of the Déisi.

Famous quotes containing the words battle of and/or battle:

    I have just read your dispatch about sore tongued and fatiegued [sic] horses. Will you pardon me for asking what the horses of your army have done since the battle of Antietem that fatigue anything?
    Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865)

    Oh, who will now be able to relate how Pantagruel behaved in face of these three hundred giants! Oh my muse, my Calliope, my Thalie, inspire me now, restore my spirits, because here is the ass’s bridge of logic, here is the pitfall, here is the difficulty of being able to describe the horrible battle undertaken.
    François Rabelais (1494–1553)