Day fades. The second canto opens in the last light before the descent into true darkness. Dante invokes Memory and the High Genius and the Muses. Then he stops. A cold creeps through him. He is not Aeneas, whose descent to the underworld served the founding of Rome and ultimately of the Church. He is not Paul, who was caught up to paradise to bring back knowledge for the strengthening of faith. Who is he? A man of no particular significance. Why should he, of all people, make this journey? His fear is not cowardice but honest self-assessment: to go on such an errand without being worthy of it is hubris; the fear is right.
Virgil rebukes him firmly but compassionately — calling his fear a cowardice dressed as prudence — and then tells him the full story of his commission. Beatrice herself came to Virgil in Limbo. She descended from her seat in Heaven — moved by the three blessed women: the Virgin Mary, who took pity on Dante lost in the world; Lucia, who carried the message to Beatrice; and Beatrice herself, who descended to act. Beatrice spoke to Virgil with the voice of an angel, her eyes bright with tears, asking him to go to Dante before it was too late, to guide and protect him. She invoked Virgil's own great art. She said: I am Beatrice; I come from the place to which I wish to return; Love moved me and moves me to speak.
The revelation changes everything. Dante was afraid because he thought himself alone, attempting something he had no right to attempt. Now he knows he is commissioned — carried on the prayers and love of Heaven itself. His fear dissolves. He is ready. The descent begins.