He smote his palm with his clenched fist and strode about the little room.
Then, he smote his thigh with a blow strong enough to kill an ox.
The homely beauty of it smote upon him, though it could not cheer.
It smote upon his heart to feel that she hid her thin, worn shoe.
If it had a new meaning that smote him to the heart, the change was in his perception, not in her.